Kelley Armstrong - Made to Be Broken

I headed for the door. "Anyway, I apologize for waking you – yet again."

"You didn't. I was still up."

"So how did you find – " I stopped, hand on the door frame. "You followed me from the house. You knew I wasn't going to bed."

"Think I'm stupid?"

"Jack, you don't have to – "

"Wasn't sleeping anyway. Let's get you a drink. And shoes."

I tried, with increasing insistence, to persuade Jack that I didn't need him to sit up with me. At one point, I even threw up my hands and headed for the stairs, saying I was going to bed and he could suit himself. He only retrieved my sneakers from the back hall, handed them to me, and said he'd be waiting outside my window.

So I humored him.

We returned to the lake, this time in the gazebo with the heater blasting.

"I'm handing the case over to the police," I said.

"Huh."

He stirred his cocoa, submerging a mini marshmallow and watching it resurface. Not quite the response I'd expected. He probably thought it was stress and exhaustion talking, and come morning I'd be right back at it, bashing my head against the wall pursuing "justice."

"They've got a body now – the girl at the wreckers. Quinn can advise me on how to link that, anonymously, with Sammi's disappearance and nudge them to her body."

"Huh."

"It's time for me to admit I'm not the right person for the job. That I'm being selfish by claiming I'm doing it for Sammi."

"When did you say that?"

"It was implied."

"Huh."

"Anyway, we both know the real reason. The same reason I shot Wayne Franco. The same reason I was so quick to join you to go after Wilkes, and equally quick to take chances catching him. By killing these guys, I think somehow I can set the balance straight. Selfish and pathetic."

A slow nod. "Yeah. Guess so. Killing Franco? Wilkes? Fenniger? Oughtta be ashamed of yourself."

I bristled, hands tightening around my mug as I lifted it. "You don't need to be sarcastic."

"And you don't need to be stupid."

I sputtered chocolate, then swiped my hand over my lips. "Stupid? I'm confessing – "

"That it's all about you? You don't give a shit about the victims? Yeah. That's why you're shivering in the forest. Running from ghosts. Right after that girl died. Must be coincidence."

I smacked the mug down, table shaking from the impact. "She died because I was too wrapped up in my revenge, my… absolution, to even realize she was there."

"No. She died because Fenniger decided she'd die. He didn't know we were tailing him. Didn't speed up because of it. Just followed his schedule. And we happened to be there. That was the coincidence."

"I could have taken him out before he got to that door."

"So now you're beating yourself up. Because you can't foresee the future." He shook his head and fingered a cookie, turning it over, thumb running along the edge. "You wanna blame someone, Nadia? Blame me. I could see her. Door opened. Girl was right there. But the angle? Wrong. Shoot, kill both. Tried to move. Get a better position. Too late. Fucking foot slowed me down. Maybe I should have taken the shot. So go ahead. Blame me."

"I'm not trying to blame anyone. I went after Fenniger because I didn't trust the police to do their job."

"You still planned to tell them. After you got more – " He rubbed his mouth. "Go on."

"I didn't trust them, and now I realize maybe that's just an excuse, which is why I'm stepping aside."

"You want out? Fine. Talk to Quinn and turn it over. If the cops fuck up and don't see the connection? If the trail goes cold and the case gets shelved? There's gonna be a lotta long nights in this forest. If you sleepwalk down by the lake again, make sure you don't wander in. I won't be here to save you."

"God, you can be a jerk." I pushed away from the table, spoon falling with a clatter. "Maybe you're grumpy because I'm keeping you up after a long night. Maybe you're sick of dealing with my shit. That's fine. But don't forget that I never asked you to deal with it. I came out here to handle it alone. You followed me. You insisted on coming back out now. You wanted me to talk. So here I am, talking, sharing this… epiphany with you, and what do I get? Sarcasm and mockery."

"What epiphany? That you like killing bad guys? That it makes you feel good? Tell me something I don't know. Something you don't know."

"I've always known – "

"Of course you have. You never pretended otherwise. Now you think you went too far. Not by killing Fenniger, but by wanting it too much. So you think that by wanting it, you got that girl killed? That's not an epiphany, Nadia. It's idiocy."

Teeth gritted against a retort, I scooped up the spoon and dropped it into my mug. Instead of a satisfying clang, I got a soft splash, and cocoa spray on my white sweatshirt. I grabbed the mug, turned to go, and smacked into Jack, standing right there, blocking me.

"You wanna quit? I don't mean this job. The life. You wanna stop taking hits?"

"I can't. The lodge is never going to turn a profit – "

"You want money? I've got money. Make me an investor and you'll never have to pull another job. But I won't offer because you wouldn't want me to. Money's just the excuse."

I stiffened. "It's not – "

"At first? Sure, it was about the money. With the Tomassinis, part of it still is. You wouldn't kill Mafia thugs for free. You don't get enough out of it. For that, you need the real sons of bitches. Franco. Wilkes. Fenniger. That does the trick. If you didn't find out about the girl, you'd be enjoying the best sleep you've had in months."

"And what does that say about me, Jack?"

"That you like killing losers. So?"

"Forgive me if I don't think you're the best person to judge the moral and ethical rights and wrongs of killing people."

He shrugged, taking no offense. "It's what you gotta do. You don't kid yourself and call them good deeds. But you know they aren't bad ones, either. Ask the girl in the walk-up. See if she'd rather you'd turned this over to the cops. Maybe, Fenniger dead, you can say 'good enough.' For now. Pretty soon? You'll be looking for the next Fenniger. He doesn't come? You'll take Evelyn up on her offer. Let her find you jobs. Maybe you're right. It's all about Amy. One day, you'll be done. Or maybe it's not about Amy. Not anymore. It's not what you gotta do. It's what you are."

"I – "

"Give this to the cops? Chance it'll go the way you hope? Ten percent. Chance you'll blame yourself when it doesn't? One hundred." He met my gaze. "Your choice."

"I hate you."

The corners of his lips twitched. "That's okay."

As I looked up at him, I knew I didn't mean "I hate you" at all. What I felt for Jack… I couldn't put a name to it. It was a swirl of emotions that smacked too much of need.

Jack was there for me as no one had been since my father died. He was there to watch over me and listen to me and challenge me, and pick me up and dust me off. That meant more to me than I could ever express, than I ever dared express.

I wanted this relationship to mean just as much to him. But as hard as I tried to read more into his caring, his protection, his gifts, I had only to look into his eyes, blank mirrors that reflected nothing but my own feelings, and I knew it just wasn't the same for him.

In me, he'd found someone to look after, someone to teach, someone who'd care for him in return when he needed it. Mentor and protégée. Teacher and student. That's all I was going to get, so I'd damned well better accept it.

I stepped back. "I suppose I should… take it a little further, at least build a case, since I already have the leads from Fenniger. As for what to do with them…"

"Got some ideas." He motioned to the table. "Sit. Finish your chocolate."