J. Konrath - Rusty Nail

“I’m sorry.” And I meant it from the bottom of my soul.

Holly faced me again, her cheeks glistening.

“Don’t you get lonely, Jack? When was the last time you had a girls’ night out?”

“Interrogating a multiple murderer isn’t a girls’ night out.”

“But it’s better than being alone. I’ve been alone my whole crummy life. My dad died when I was a kid, and we moved around a lot. I never had friends.”

The thought of someone so attractive being without friends was ridiculous, and I almost sneered. Holly read my thoughts.

“I wasn’t like this back then. I was very fat, and had some skin problems, and big old buck teeth. It wasn’t until my twenties that I lost the weight, went to a dentist, and had some work done. A lot of work done.” Holly put her hands on either side of her breasts. “These won’t be paid for until I’m too old to appreciate them.”

She wiped her hand across her eyes, and I had a surprising thought. If I could put my jealousy aside, I might like this woman. I knew how hard it was to lose a father at a young age. Plus, the fact that she’d had plastic surgery made her seem more human, less Charlie’s Angel. Though her taste in men was seriously flawed, Holly was strong, competent, funny, a great dresser, and had an energy that you didn’t see very often.

I wondered if I wasn’t falling victim to her charisma the same way everyone else seemed to. Then I wondered why I always overanalyzed everything. I hadn’t had a female friend since, well, high school. Here was one trying to make an effort. Would it hurt to bend a little? To maybe have someone to talk to?

It’s been a long time since I had someone to talk to.

Holly backed up, arms folded across her chest. “I’m sorry, Jack. Overreacting. Pre-wedding jitters, I guess. It’s been a tough week. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

My inner cop told me to shake hands and walk away. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t say, “You can come.”

“I can?” Again she lit up, and again I was subjected to a firm hug.

But this one I didn’t mind as much.

When she finally released me, we hopped into my Nova, and for the second time that day I headed for Indiana.

HARRY TOLD ME about what he did, when you two were partners. He feels bad about it.”

I replied with a snort. Holly and I had already talked about fashion (consensus: Fashion is good), guns (consensus: Guns are good), and parents (consensus: Parents are good if you still had them, but hers were dead and I only had my comatose mother), and we’d finally worked our way around to men.

Holly wholeheartedly agreed I’d screwed up my chances with Latham, and I made a heroic effort to convince her to do the same with McGlade.

“He’s changed, Jack. Loyalty is actually one of his most endearing qualities.”

“It wasn’t back then.”

“He was younger, ambitious. Now he recognizes that friendship is more important than a career. He considers you a good friend, Jack.”

I snorted again. With good friends like McGlade, having serial killers hunting me was almost welcome.

Holly reached for another french fry. We’d stopped at the McDonald’s oasis on the Skyway. I’d polished off my burger and fries a while ago. Holly had bought a Happy Meal, and divided her time between picking at her food and playing with the included toy, some kind of movie tie-in figurine.

The fry disappeared in three bites. Holly chewed slowly. “It’s been years. Why do you still hate Harry so much?”

“I don’t hate him. Let’s just say my life hasn’t been enriched by his involvement.”

“He helped you with the Gingerbread Man case.”

“Reluctantly.”

“And with the case you had last year, that guy who was killing prostitutes.”

“In both cases he wanted something.”

“Isn’t that why you agreed to stand up at our wedding?”

Oops. “He told you that?”

“He said you wanted to get your character off the TV show, and you wouldn’t be his best man until he agreed.”

I shifted in my seat. It was getting dark, so I switched on the headlights. The Gary exit was coming up.

“He’s the one who got me on that damn TV show. It’s jeopardizing my job.”

“Maybe he would have gotten you off the show if you just asked.”

I made a noncommittal grunt.

“He’s really sweet, Jack. I wish you could see that.”

“Yeah. He should be a plush toy.”

Holly dug back into the bag, and found one of the pickles she’d taken off her burger. She put it into her mouth, a gesture that struck me as odd.

“Why’d you take the pickle off if you like them?”

“I hate them.”

“Then why’d you eat it?”

“Waste not, want not. Right?”

“I guess.”

Neither of us talked for a moment. I refused to feel guilty about anything to do with McGlade, even if I was starting to like his girlfriend.

“Tell me about this Bill Kork guy.”

“Bud. His name’s Bud. He was Charles Kork’s – the Gingerbread Man’s – father. You saw the bodies on the news?”

Holly crinkled up her nose. “Yeah. What kind of sicko would bury people in his basement?”

“The same kind who bathes in his own urine, sticks needles in his groin, and whips himself with a scourge.”

Holly made a face and shoved my shoulder. “That’s not true.”

“It’s true. He also emasculated himself.”

She mouthed the word emasculated , and then said, “He cut his own dick off?”

I nodded. “He lost his luggage, and both carry-ons.”

“That’s gross.”

“Apparently he was punishing himself for his evil deeds. Some kind of warped Christian thing.”

“Remind me not to attend that church.”

I took the Gary exit, trying to remember if the hospital was north or south. I chose north.

Holly liberated her last french fry, sniffed it, and popped it into her mouth. “I don’t know anyone that gross, but we had some killer in Detroit a few years ago. He was peeling people.”

I tensed. “Really?”

“Some serial killer whack-job. He was cutting people up and pulling off their skin. You didn’t see it on the news?”

“I try not to watch the news. Too depressing. They catch the guy?”

“No. Killed three people, then disappeared. Cops called it some kind of organized crime thing. Pretty terrible way to die, don’t you think? Getting skinned?”

I thought about the Mulrooney video. “Yeah. Pretty terrible.”

I knew I made the correct turn, because there were over a dozen news vans, each with that big antenna/dish thing on its roof, parked along the street. The hospital had cleared the media out of the parking lot. I found a handicapped space and pulled my siren out of the glove compartment, sticking it on the roof so I wouldn’t be towed.

Holly got out with me.

“I thought you were waiting in the car.”

“Let me see the guy. Please, Jack? I’ll stay quiet. I just want to look in his eyes.”

“This isn’t the zoo, Holly. We’re not visiting the monkey house.”

“I’m good with men. I really am. If you want him to talk, maybe I can help.”

As with Harry, arguing with Holly was an exercise in futility. We went back and forth for thirty seconds, and I realized the only way I’d get her to stay in the car would be if I handcuffed her. Which I considered, but physical restraints weren’t a good way to begin a friendship.

“Don’t say a word. You can observe, but not interfere.”

Holly mimed zipping her mouth closed.

There were cops in the lobby, including the uniform I’d met who’d previously stood guard over Kork. He gave me a passing nod, then glued his eyes to Holly. The other cops did the same, without giving me a passing nod. If this were a cartoon, their tongues would have unrolled out of their mouths and onto the floor, red-carpet style.