“Good kitty,” Harry said. “Good fucking kitty.”

And he continued to pet him until the ambulances arrived.

CHAPTER 52

WE WERE ALL taken to Alexian Brothers Hospital in Elk Grove. Latham got stitches. I got stitches too. I also had my nose set and packed, which hurt worse than when Holly broke it, and had a cast put on my ankle for a bad sprain. Phin needed five units of blood, but came out of surgery in good shape.

And Harry – I actually felt sorry for Harry. He had to have his ruined right hand amputated.

“Don’t let them do it, Jackie,” he pleaded as they wheeled him into the OR. “That’s half my sex life.”

I patted his shoulder. “You’ll get one of those cool robotic hands, like on James Bond.”

That made his eyes light up.

“I’ll be able to crush cans and shit like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Do women like those things?”

“They’re sexy,” I told him. “You’ll have to fight the women off.”

Alex Kork, whom I knew as Holly Frakes, also needed surgery. She had skin removed from her buttocks, her hips, and her stomach, to try to reconstruct her face. From what I heard, it wouldn’t help much. She’d spend the rest of her life looking like a patchwork quilt.

I also finally got through to Herb, and spoke with an exhausted Bernice.

“Everything went fine. He’s doing great. I’m watching what’s happening on TV. Are you okay?”

I squeezed Latham’s hand.

“Never better.”

“Herb wants to talk to you.”

“He’s awake?”

“He’s still a little dopey. But then, he’s always a little dopey. Here he is.”

“Jack! I’m watching you on TV. It was Harry’s wife all along?”

“Yeah. How’s that for a shocker?”

“Well, at least now it makes sense why someone would marry that moron. For a while there, I thought there was something seriously wrong with the universe.”

“How are you doing?”

“Good. Just like an oil change. You gonna come visit?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Bring donuts.”

Latham and I were discharged at around three in the morning. As expected, my apartment was a full-blown crime scene, infested with cops.

Bud Kork, gut-shot and burned, had died on my kitchen floor next to his common-law wife.

I picked up some essentials and spent the night at Latham’s new condo. With the cat, of course.

“I bought this king-sized bed with you in mind,” he told me.

“Might be a while before I’m ready to break it in.”

“We can take as long as you need.”

Between the two of us we had three black eyes, twenty-three stitches, a nose full of cotton, and a twisted ankle, but we managed to break it in that night.

I fell asleep wrapped up in Latham’s arms, a goofy, chipped-tooth smile on my face.

The next few days were spent playing catch-up. I visited the office and finished my reports, and Captain Bains told me the superintendent was considering a promotion for me. I visited Herb and brought him Cinnabons. I visited Mom and told her everything that happened. I visited Harry, and he showed me his stump and moaned about the tetanus shots he had to get. I visited Phin, who thanked me for a wild weekend. And I visited Alex.

She had two armed guards at her door, and another one that sat inside her room. She lay on top of her sheets, bandages covering most of her body from the many patches of skin they’d harvested trying to reconstruct her face. Her head was swaddled in gauze, mummy-style. Her hand was cuffed to the bed frame. A single blue eye peered out through the cotton, fixing on me when I entered.

“Hello, Jack. Thanks for coming.”

Her voice sounded weak, muffled by her dressings. I sat down in the chair next to her.

“I hear you’ve been cooperating with police. Telling them everything they want to know.”

“Just listening to my lawyers. They want to use an insanity defense, obviously. Poor abused child grows up confused and alone. Some bullshit like that.”

“Do you think you’re insane?”

She shrugged. “What do you think?”

“I think there’s something seriously wrong with you. Maybe you’ll be able to get some help. Professional help.”

“I doubt it. I killed my last four shrinks.”

I leaned forward.

“Why did you want to see me, Alex?”

“You can call me Holly if you want.”

“Why did you want to see me?”

“The doctors, they didn’t want me to see my face yet. But last night I got up and went to the bathroom and took off my bandages in the mirror. I look like someone stapled some raw pork chops to my face.”

If she wanted sympathy, she was preaching to the wrong choir.

“I’ll be scarred for life, Jack.”

“You already were,” I said.

Holly didn’t seem to have anything else to say, so I got up to leave.

“Jack.”

I stopped. Waited.

“You beat me this time. But it isn’t over.”

I gave her a final glance.

“It’s over,” I said, and left the hospital.

That night, in Latham’s bed, I had a strange dream. I was at the shooting range, and no matter how carefully I aimed, I couldn’t hit the silhouette.

But rather than frustrate me, I found it funny as hell. Every time I missed, I laughed like crazy. It was one of the most wonderful dreams I’d ever had.

My cell phone woke me up.

“Ms. Daniels? This is Julie, over at Henderson House.”

Henderson House. The long-term care facility where my mother lived. I checked the clock, saw it was three in the morning.

The fear washed over me like a wave. I’d been expecting the worst for so long, but found myself unable to handle it.

“Is it Mom?” My voice quavered, my eyes filling with tears.

“Yes, it’s your mother. It happened just a few minutes ago. She’s come out of her coma.”

Had I heard correctly?

“Mom’s out of her coma?”

My talking woke Latham up. He hugged me in the darkness.

“Not only is she awake, but she’s completely lucid. Can you come over here, Ms. Daniels? She’s asking for you.”

EPILOGUE

Several Months Later

THE ALLEY WAS dark, and I shouldn’t have gone in there. It was just plain stupid.

But into the alley I went, following McGlade, gun drawn and moving in a crouch.

“I see something.” Harry had his gun out as well, a much larger gun than mine. “Cover me.”

“No.” I tugged his arm back. “It’s my turn to go first. You cover me.”

“Jack, this is dangerous. Don’t fight me on this.”

Without listening I pushed past McGlade and broke into a run. I stopped in a Weaver stance, legs two feet apart, both arms stretched out in front of me, steadying the gun-

– silhouetted by the street light behind me.

A perfect, easy target.

“Freeze! Police!”

The first shot caught me in the stomach, blood gushing out before me like a fountain.

I fell in slow motion, three more shots ripping into my chest and shoulders, spinning me around, painting the brick walls with blood before I hit the pavement.

I heard Harry yell, and watched him run out to me, firing into the alley as he ran, grabbing me by the collar and dragging me out onto the sidewalk, leaving a smeared trail of red.

“Harry…”

“Shh. Jack, don’t talk.”

I looked down at the ruin that was my chest, blood pumping out in a ridiculous amount. McGlade tried to press down on some of the wounds. I cried out in pain.

“I’ve got to get help, Jack.”

He tried to stand up, but I stopped him, grabbing his hand.

“It’s… it’s too late, Harry… too late.”

“Hold on, Jack.”

A single tear rolled down my face. I put on a brave smile.

“You’ll get the guys. Right?”

“Of course I will, baby. Count on it.”

I blinked a few times.

“Everything’s getting dark, Harry.”

McGlade knelt down, propped my upper body onto his lap, and put his arms around me.