Envy (Fallen Angels 3)

Bails rubbed his eyes again. "I checked the preliminary log of the items from the truck, the list that was made right after we got the vehicle. There wasn't any notation of an earring shaped like a dove. That's what I was double-checking right before I came and saw you two this morning."

So that was why he'd looked poleaxed.

She shook her head. "But what does he have to gain?" Unless ...

Oh, God ... what if he'd killed her. What if Kroner had somehow seen something in the course of his own evil work at that quarry?

"You've read the report on Sissy's body, right?" Bails said.

"Of course." She'd spent all morning on it - and the conclusion that she'd first come to when the body had been found was now inescapable: None of the victim's wounds matched those of Kroner's other killings - and that kind of change didn't happen, typically. Usually, the method and the fixations didn't alter.

"So you've got to know she wasn't defiled by Kroner. And maybe, after you add it all up ... maybe Veck did it."

Good heavens, she couldn't breathe. Sure as if there were hands around her throat. "But ... why?"

Although that was a dumb question to ask, she feared.

"How much do you know about Veck's father?" the detective said. "His murders?"

"Just what I studied in college."

Bails refocused out the front window. "Did you know that his father's first victim was bled out by the neck and wrists - having been hung by her feet. She'd also been marked up just like the Barten girl is. On the stomach."

Reilly reached for the handle and shoved open her door. It wasn't just for the fresh air. It was because she was seriously going to throw up.

"I'm so sorry," Bails said, his voice raw.

"So am I," she croaked, although that didn't begin to cover it.

As she stared at the pavement, she knew she had been snowed. Big-time. And of course Veck had made the effort. She was his advocate at headquarters, the one who was supposed to vet him carefully and yea or y him to keep on the force: He'd wanted to keep working, and she'd been in the position to make that possible.

"Thank God for you," she choked out. Too bad she couldn't look at Bails - she was just too mortified that she'd been played so well. "Thank God you said something."

Chapter 36

"So how about you do some talking first."

As Veck spoke in a low voice, he kept an eye lock on Heron. The two of them had ducked around the corner of the apartment building and were standing in the shadows next to a scrubby bush.

Jim's stare was dead on and his voice was church-bell deep. "You know everything. All the answers you want?" The man put his forefinger on Veck's chest, right over his heart. "It's inside you."

Veck wanted to hit that one back with a racket full of Whatever, a-hole. But he couldn't.

"My father wants to see me," was his reply, instead.

Heron nodded and took out his cigs. When he tilted the pack forward, it was all Veck could do not to take one: "Nah, I quit."

"Smart." Heron lit up. "Here's the way it works. You're going to find yourself at a crossroads. There's going to be a decision you'll have to make, an action to be taken or not, a choice between polar opposites. All of what you are and what you have been and what you could be will be measured on your decision. And the consequences? They don't just affect you. They affect everyone. This is not simply life and death - it's about eternity. Yours. Others'. Do not underestimate how far this goes."

As the man spoke, Veck felt the two sides of him begin to split. One half was utterly repulsed. The other -

Veck frowned. Blinked a couple of times. Looked away and looked back. As God was his witness, he could have sworn that there was a shimmering glow over both of Heron's shoulders and around his head.

And the bizarre illusion gave this whole nightmare credibility. As did the fact that the moment he'd wanted the guy, the f**ker had been right behind him ... and then there was the no-prints issue down at the quarry ... and the light show that had happened in the stairwell at the Barten house.

Veck put his palm up to his sternum and rubbed hard at the dark shadow in his chest. "I never volunteered for this."

"I know how that feels," Heron muttered. "In your case, you were born to it."

"Tell me what I am."

"You already know."

"Say it."

Heron exhaled slowly, the smoke rising up through that golden glow. "Evil. You are evil incarnate - or, at least, half of you is. And in the very near future, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, you're going to be asked to pick one side over the other." The guy pointed to himself with his smoking hand. "I'm here to try to get you to choose wisely."

"And if I don't."

"You lose."

"Right then and there?"

The man nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. "And I've seen where you end up after that. It's not pretty."

"What are you."

Heron's expression didn't change. Neither did his stance. And he didn't even stop with the smoking. But one minute he was a man; the next ...

"Jesus ... Christ ..." Veck breathed.

"Not even close." He stubbed out his cig on the sole of his combat boot. "But I am what I am."

And that would be ... an angel, evidently: In the weak and fading light of day, a refracted, gleaming show had appeared over his shoulders in the shape of giant wings, making him both magnificent and ethereal.

"I've been sent to help you." The man ... angel ... shit, whatever ... refocused on Veck. "So when you go to see your father, I want to be with you."

"You already have been with me. Haven't you."

"Yup." The guy cleared his throat. "But not when you were ... you know."

Veck's brows popped. "Oh, yeah. Good ..."

Annnnnd cue them both looking anywhere and everywhere else.

Veck thought about that night with Kroner. "What if the crossroads has already happened?"

"The Kroner thing? Wasn't legal."

"Well, yeah, murder ain't."

"No, not like that. I'm not the only one who wants you, but the other side jumped the gun on that setup."

"Other side?"

"Like I said, it's not just me in this game. And trust me, the enemy is a real bitch - I'm sure you'll meet her soon, if you haven't already."

Oh, great, more good news, Veck thought.

And then he blurted, "I was going to kill him. Kroner, I mean." Damn, it felt good to get that out.

"You mean, part of you was going to. Let's get accurate - you didn't do the damage, and you also called nine-one-one, and if you hadn't done that, he'd have bled out right at your feet."

"So what attacked him?"

"You think you're surprised to be talking to an angel? You don't want to know what else is out there." Jim waved his hand dismissively. "But that's not what you and I need to worry about. We're going to go see your father. Together. ASAP."

Veck thought about that sensation of destiny's arrival, the one where he felt like his life had slipped into culmination mode. Not even remotely a hypothetical anymore, was it.

"Is that the crossroads?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Abruptly, Jim lowered his lids and tilted his head down. As he stared out of vicious slits, he was downright deadly - and precisely the kind of thing Veck was glad he had at his back: He had a feeling he was going to need another good fighter around if he was going to battle this side of himself.

And that was what this was. A fight to the death.

"We'll find out," the angel vowed, "when we get there."

Everything happened for a reason, Reilly thought as she and Bails walked away from Kroner's room a half an hour later.

Kroner's condin had degraded, almost as if his injuries were a sea that he had briefly surfaced out of, only to be pulled back underneath: He hadn't been able to focus, had mumbled replies that made no sense, and not long after they had arrived, she and Bails had given up.

"What's with the suffering thing?" Bails muttered as he held the door of the elevator open for her.

Reilly shook her head as they began the descent. "I don't know."

It had been the same as before. He has to know she suffered... . He has to know she suffered... .

She hadn't a clue on that one - and no idea what the connection was between Kroner and Veck. Hell, at this point, she didn't feel like she could trust her instincts when it came to her own name. Speculating on this mess? Total nonstarter.