Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

I fingered the folder. "He wanted to become a cop. My dad said he'd come around the station, asking if they had any openings. He even volunteered, thinking you could do that, like with firefighters. No one at the station would have anything to do with him. So now he's fulfilled his dream."

"Seems so."

I felt a flash of anger. Aldrich should never have gotten a single thing he wanted from his life after he'd taken my cousin's. But that's not how it works.

"So he's a cop," I said. "That makes him even more dangerous. He

can use his position to get close to teenage girls. And he can use it to make them keep their mouths shut."

"Yeah."

"So you brought me here to investigate him."

He slanted a look my way. "You think so?"

I glanced at Aldrich's townhouse again and my heart started to pound. Jack restarted the car.

"No," I said. "Not yet."

"Nothing more to see. Just wanted to . . ." He seemed to struggle for words. "Ease you into it. Didn't know how to bring it up. Guess coming here . . ." He shrugged. "No point in it. Just . . ."

I lifted the folder. "What do you expect me to do with it, Jack?"

"What you want to do. What he deserves. Doesn't matter if he's a saint now. Still killed Amy."

"And now you expect me to kill him," I said, looking out the window.

"You can. I can. Whatever you want."

He said it so matter-of-factly, like deciding who was going to drive. It really was that simple for him.

I glanced down at the cup lid full of cigarette butts. This is what had been stressing him--bringing me here, telling me about Aldrich, not knowing how I'd react. The actual killing? That was easy.

How did I feel about Jack finding Aldrich for me? Confused. I suppose a firmer reaction would come later, but it wouldn't be anger. We'd been dealing with this issue for years. To Jack, Amy's death was a problem, and a problem needed a solution.

Why did he feel the need to solve it? Was he worried that this was my one weakness and it had to be mended before I imploded and he got caught in the fallout? If that was his motive, did it sting? Not really. He could have just walked away. Instead he chose to stay and fix the problem.

"Should go," he said. "Start surveillance tonight. You want to do shifts?"

"Jack, I don't think--"

"Yeah, should take shifts. You need sleep. Could use some, too."

"I don't think I can--"

"Find a motel. No, a hotel. Nice place."

It's tough to babble when your sentences rarely exceed four words, but Jack was managing quite nicely.

"Jack, stop. I'm not killing Aldrich. That crosses a line--"

"Don't need to cross it. I will."

"You'll cross it for me, which is the same, if not worse--"

"Then tell me not to. Forbid me. He dies? Not your fault?"

I looked sharply at him. "I hope you're joking."