As they stepped out into the lobby and headed for the revolving door to the parking lot, Bails checked his watch. "You want a drink? I'm due to go make my statement in a little over an hour, and I need one beforehand."
Yeah, because when one detective has information like he did on another, it wasn't the sort of thing that people waited around for. He'd called HQ right after they'd spoken, and within a minute and a half, the sergeant himself had set up a meeting of high-ups, even though it was going to happen well after business hours.
No wonder Bails wanted a beer.
"Thanks," she murmured, "but like I said, I've got my rendezvous with my supervisor right now."
So didn't that make them two peas in a pod.
Together, she and Bails walked into the rows of cars, got into her unmarked, and did up their seat belts. They were both silent during the trip back to headquarters. Not a lot to talk about, and Bails looked as betrayed and sick as she felt.
They parted ways on a hug, and as he headed to his own car, she watched him walk off. Veck had put them in the same boat, and that meant someone who had been a stranger was now a kind of friend -
As her phone went off in her purse, she knew who it was before she took the thing out.
Veck.
Now, this was what they made voice mail for, she thought.
Except he would probably come looking for her, and that was the last thing she wanted. Face-to-face was to be avoided at all costs.
She hit send. "Hello."
There was a whirring sound in the background, as if he were in a car. "Reilly ... what's wrong?"
In a dispassionate way, as if she were observing him from the far side of a two-way mirror, she thought, yup, this was how he'd seduced her: The emotion he was projecting in that deep voice was the perfect combination of concern and sharp-edged protection.
"I'm fine. Just out from seeing Kroner - we didn't get anything new." Not from the guy, of course. Bails was a different story.
"You don't sound right."
Which meant any aspirations she might have had for becoming a psychopath were out the window. What a shame.
In fact, the idea that she couldn't hide things was a relief. She didn't want to be like Veck. Ever.
"Reilly ... talk to me.serving hiont>
"I've been thinking a lot about my job today," she said. "It is not appropriate for us to have taken our relationship where it's gone. I've compromised the integrity of the force, my position, and myself. I'm going in to see my supervisor right now and I'm resigning from your case. There will probably be some reprimands on my side, but I'll deal with that - "
"Wait, what? Why are you - "
" - and I don't think we should see each other again."
There was a pause. And then he said, "Just like that."
Now he sounded cold, and that was what she wanted - the true him, the real him. Even though it just made her realize anew how stupid she'd been.
"It's for the best," she concluded.
When he didn't say anything further, she began to get rattled, because she had to wonder exactly what he was capable of. No doubt he'd been the one stalking her the night before last ... But whatever, this conversation was over, and once she made her disclosures to her boss, and Bails went in and did his duty, Veck was going to have so many other problems, he was going to be too busy looking for a defense attorney to waste time on retaliation. Or at least, she hoped that was going to be the case.
Hell, even better, he'd been in custody.
"I have to go," she told him.
There was another pause, and then his voice was cool as a cucumber. "I won't bother you again."
"I'd appreciate that. Good-bye."
She didn't wait for him to respond. Wasn't interested in getting pulled into a long, drawn-out conversation where he tried to manipulate her again, or worse, dropped that mask entirely and threatened her.
Her hand was shaking so badly, it took her two tries to get the phone back in her purse.
Steadying herself against her car, she looked up at the butt-ugly back end of headquarters, and didn't feel like she had the strength to go in there and face her boss.
But she did what she had to do ... because that was how she was raised.
Chapter 37
As Veck hung up his cell phone, he stared at the screen and found it hard to believe that conversation with Reilly had just happened.
"What."
He glanced over at Heron. The guy, angel - who the f**k cared - was behind the wheel of the truck they were all in, and his friend, comrade in wings - Christ, how could this be real? - was in the backseat of the dual cab, taking up more than half the space.
The three of them were heading for the Northern Correctional Institution in Somers, Connecticut.
"Nothing," Veck said smoothly.
"Bullshit," came from the rear.
First word the other man had spoken. Which meant that and the fact that he was apparently breathing were the only clues he was alive.
Jim shifted his stare over. "There are no coincidences. When we get this close to the end, everything matters."
"It was ..." My girl? Ex-girl? Internal Affairs officr? "Reilly."
"What did she say?"
"She doesn't want to see me. Ever again."
The words were spoken factually, in a calm, deep voice - so at least his c**k and balls were still with him. In the center of his chest, however, there was a big black hole of agony, as if he were a cartoon that had had a cannonball shot through him.
"Why? She give a reason?"
"Mind if I borrow a cigarette?" When Jim extended the pack, Veck took two, thinking that now was a perfect time to toss that I-quit thing right out the window.
"And the reason is?"
"Because I either smoke something right now or punch out the glass next to me."
"Good call on the Marlboro," came from the back. "We're going seventy and it's f**king cold outside."
Veck took the lighter that was offered, flicked the Bic, and cracked the window. As he inhaled, he thought it was a damn shame there were so many carcinogens in the bastards, because sure as shit, this made him feel a little better.
Wasn't going to last, though.
Unlike the pain behind his ribs. He had a feeling that was going to hang around for a loooooong time. Like a perpetual heart attack.
Except, man, he should have known this was coming. The woman went into Internal Affairs because she liked things that were done right, done well. Banging him? So not on that list. Falling in love with him? Don't be f-in' ridiculous.
"Reason?" Jim barked.
"Conflict of interest."
"But why now? She had to know what was doing the whole time."
"I don't know. Don't care, either."
The good news was that they couldn't fire him from his job just because she had woken up and smelled the crappies, so to speak. They were two consenting adults, and yeah, it looked bad, but she was doing the right thing and it was game over.
Inevitably, he was going to be called in for questions of the human resources variety, and he was going to be a stand-up guy and say it was all his idea. Which it had been: He'd been the pursuer, as well as the fathead with the I-love-yous.
Dumb-ass. What a f**king dumb-ass he was ...
Not much else was said during the rest of the trip, which was fine with him. The images in his head of Reilly and him together made him not trust his voice - and not because it was going to go sad-sack cracking on him. He was liable to bite anyone's head off at the moment.
When they got to within a mile of the prison, Jim pulled over in the town just before the institution and they traded places.
Now behind the wheel, Veck threw the truck in drive and assumed the role of what he was: a cop. "So no one is going to see you?"
Although it wasn't as if he didn't think the guy could go invisible. Heron had dogged him for days with nothing more than a whisper of instinct to tip that shit off.
"That's right."
"Just as long as - " Veck stopped talking as he looked over at the suddenly empty seat next to him. Quick check in the rearview mirror and the back was also completely filled by absolutely no big, tough guy.
"You SOBs ever think about robbing banks," he said dryly.
"Don't need the cash," Jim said from the ether beside him.
"Don't need the hassle," came from the back.
Veck rubbed his face, thinking it would probably be better to feel like he'd gone crazy as he carried on conversations with thin air. Trouble was, he'd been dueling and dealing with this alternate reality all his life. The idea that it was an actuality and not a function of madness was nuts, but also made him feel sane.