J. Konrath - Rusty Nail

“Scott? I need you to do two things for me. Is the Caleb Ellison evidence there yet?”

“Came in this morning.”

“Caleb’s computer?”

“Rogers is working on that right now, one room over.”

“Connect me with him. In the meantime, get your hands on the gun used to kill Ellison.”

“You got it.” He transferred the call, and I crossed my fingers, hoping I was wrong.

“This is Rogers.”

“Dan, it’s Jack Daniels. Are you in Ellison’s database?”

“As we speak. It’s filled with both the real names and the made-up names. Not a smart way to make fake IDs. We’ll probably get a few dozen arrests out of this.”

“Check a name for me. Alexandra Kork.”

I heard fingers tap-tap-tap on a keyboard, Rogers humming softly to himself.

“Got it. Made a Detroit driver’s license, a bunch of years back.”

“What’s the new name?”

I held my breath.

“Frakes,” he said. “Holly Frakes.”

Son of a bitch. Harry’s new bride was the killer. It all made sense, in hindsight. I couldn’t believe I’d been so easily duped.

“Put me back on with Hajek.”

“He’s standing right next to me. Here.”

“Lieut? I’ve got an empty nine-millimeter shell from Caleb Ellison’s house. It’s a match.”

I thanked him and hung up the phone.

“Bud Kork’s daughter is going by the name Holly Frakes,” I told the Feebies.

“Where is she?”

“Still in Elk Grove, I think. She called my cell but blocked the number. Can you guys access my call records?”

Dailey looked at Coursey. “Not only that, we can use satellites to triangulate the signal.”

“It’ll take a little while to set up.”

“How long?”

“An hour, if we move.”

“We might not have an hour. If Harry and Phin are somewhere near Busse Woods, she could be with them right now.”

Doing God knows what to them.

ALEX KORK, WHO now uses the name Holly Frakes, pulls Harry’s Mustang into the warehouse parking lot. She discovered the place a few days ago, and it’s one of the reasons she insisted on getting married at that stupid forest preserve. Though Alex is a strong girl, hauling a two-hundred-pound man around is hard work, and takes a long time. Privacy is essential.

Here she has plenty of privacy.

This entire area, for several square miles, is industrial. Factories, warehouses, and shipping yards. This building is currently between tenants. And since it’s Sunday night, there isn’t a single person anywhere near here.

It’s the perfect place to kill someone slowly.

Alex gets out and opens the garage door. She pulls the car inside the loading dock, parks, and closes the door behind her.

This next part is going to be fun.

“Holly? Holly! Holy shit, it’s you! Thank God you’re here, baby! I have to piss so bad the change in my pockets is floating.”

Alex approaches Harry and Phin, both still securely wired to the heavy frame metal chairs. They’re back to back, a few feet apart, and the chairs have been bolted to docking anchors in the concrete floor.

No way of escape, no matter how hard they struggle.

“Hi, Harry.”

Alex sits on his lap and grinds on him, playfully. She curls a finger in his hair and twists a lock.

“Quit screwing around, Holly. Grab those pliers off the table and untwist these wires.”

“Pliers? Sure.” Alex giggles. “Just a second.”

She leaves Harry’s lap and circles the table, smiling at all the wonderful toys.

“How did you find us, Holly?” Phin tries to turn his head around to see, but can’t.

“Easy. I just followed my heart. Nothing could keep me from the man I love. My precious husband.” Alex picks up a tool. “How about this one, dear?”

“What are those? Tin snips? Yeah, that oughta work. Bring them around to my hands, baby.”

“Or how about this one?” Alex picks up something older, something she knows very well.

“What the hell is that? A hairbrush? Can’t you do that later?”

“It’s not a hairbrush, Harry. Not anymore. Instead of bristles, it has rusty nails sticking through the end. Father used it on me, when I was bad.”

McGlade makes a face. “You’re not making sense, Holly.”

Moment of truth time. Alex gets close. She wants to gaze into his eyes when she tells him.

“My father’s name is Bud Kork.”

“I thought your last name was Frakes.”

“Kork, Harry. Doesn’t the name sound familiar?”

“Kork? Yeah, Charles Kork was that psycho that I…”

McGlade stops talking. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His eyes become comically wide.

“That psycho was my older brother, Harry. The only man I ever loved.”

Harry’s face twists from confusion to mirth.

“This is a joke, right? You’re getting me back for that time I accidentally used the rear entrance. I told you, baby. It was dark. I was working by feel.”

“Why do you think I always turned out the lights when we had sex, Harry?”

McGlade doesn’t answer.

“Scars, Harry. Along my back. I had a lot of plastic surgery, but it still doesn’t look right. Want to see?”

“Not really. Scars freak me out.”

Alex plants her feet, rears back, and slams the hairbrush onto McGlade’s thigh. The nails penetrate a good inch, anchoring themselves into bone.

McGlade screams like a train whistle.

Alex basks in his pain, his fear. It’s like sunlight on her face. That single scream is worth all of the time she invested, all of the gropes she endured. To finally have this man all to herself, for her to enjoy, is simply delicious.

As McGlade sobs, Alex walks over to Phin. His eyes are cold, emotionless.

He’s going to be fun to break.

“What’s the matter, Phin?” Alex pouts. She caresses his chin and runs her hand over the back of his head. “Don’t you like me anymore?”

“I was wondering why you married McGlade. Now it makes perfect sense.”

Alex brings her face to within inches of his.

“I married him for revenge.”

“You married him because you’re out of your fucking mind.”

The smile leaves her face. Alex steps back, centers herself, and finger-strikes Phin in the abdomen. The blow forces air out of Phin’s lungs, and he grunts in pain.

“You had a hand in it too. You helped Jack and Harry find my brother. I’m going to make you pay for that, Phin.”

“I want a divorce!” screams Harry McGlade.

Alex gives Phin a kiss on his forehead, then turns her attention back to Harry.

“You have to remind me, my dear husband. What are you again? Left-handed, or right-handed?”

Harry spits on her.

“I’m glad I made you sign that prenup, you crazy psycho bitch!”

“I think you’re a righty. Let’s start with that one, then.”

She lowers the tin snips to the fingers on McGlade’s right hand. Puts the pincers around his middle finger.

“Don’t worry, Harry. You won’t bleed to death. That’s why I bought the blowtorch.”

Snip.

Harry’s screams are like candy.

THE DOOR GAVE on my third kick, and I twisted my ankle badly enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Special Agent Dailey and Special Agent Coursey waited in the hallway, citing statutes about breaking and entering, illegal search and seizure, speaking without raising my hand, etc.

I didn’t think Harry would mind, considering I was trying to save his life.

McGlade used to live in Hyde Park, in a little rat hole apartment. Since hitting it big with Fatal Autonomy , he’d moved to a penthouse on the GC – the Gold Coast. Heated garage. Twenty-four-hour doorman. And a damn good front door, which I hurt myself getting through.