Kelley Armstrong - Made to Be Broken

"Er, you might want to check the definition of stable, Les. I'm pretty sure you don't fit it. And I'm pretty sure the two-parent part is out, too. Sounds like Ken's gone. Not that you care. You were willing to let him die to protect a baby that isn't even yours. Just like you killed her mother to get her. You couldn't come up with a better way?"

I readied myself to move again as soon as she spoke.

"Do you think anyone cares about those girls? Worth less little tramps, prancing around in next to nothing, shaking their asses at every man who walks by. Then, if he takes them up on their invitation, they cry rape."

A voice echoed through my mind. A neighbor, at Amy's memorial, whispering to her friend, saying almost the exact same words about Amy. As I struggled to focus, I missed the first part of Leslie's new diatribe.

" – accuses him of rape. Fucking bad judgment, sleeping with your fifteen-year-old student, but rape?" A manic laugh. "He couldn't handle it. Drove the car off an embankment. Killed himself and almost killed me. Then, as I'm lying in the hospital bed, I hear the little bitch is pregnant. She stole my fiancé, killed him, then has his baby. My baby."

"Destiny isn't that baby – "

"Do you think I don't know that?" The words were barely comprehensible, spewed on a stream of venom.

"I'm just checking, Les, 'cause I hate to say it, but you seem a bit nuts to me." A small laugh. "Oh, who am I kidding? You're full-blown fucked-in-the-head crazy."

"You're calling me crazy? You kill people for a living."

"Sure," I said as I reached the end of the wall. "But I know I'm not fit to raise a child."

"How dare you judge -!"

"Sorry, Leslie, but no matter what goes down here, you aren't keeping Destiny. I don't care how much money you have or how badly you want her, you aren't one-tenth the mother Sammi was."

She sprang around the corner, her face contorted with rage, gun raised. I slammed my fist into the bottom of her arm and the gun flew free. As she twisted to dive for it, I kicked her in the stomach. She howled, doubling over as she fell to the floor. I booted the gun out of her reach. She flipped over and grabbed for the one in MacIver's hand. I beat her to it, but as I bent to scoop it up, I stumbled, managing to grab MacIver's but drop my own.

I flew after it. She was faster, and snatched it as my fingertips brushed the metal. I staggered back, raising MacIver's gun.

"Stop," she said, smiling as she raised the gun to point at my head.

"Y-you don't want to do this, Leslie. I can help you. I can make sure you keep Destiny – Miranda, your baby."

"Sorry, but I can manage just fine on my own."

She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. She pulled it again, face twisting. I took the cartridge from my pocket and dangled it in my free hand as I lifted MacIver's gun.

"Yes, it's empty," I said. "But thank you for putting your prints on it."

I shot her between the eyes. She toppled back, my gun still clutched in her hands. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then crossed to MacIver and replaced the gun in his bare hand, putting it back as it had been.

"Not bad," said a voice behind me.

I spun, hand going to my holster.

Jack closed the door behind him. "First thing? Before replacing his gun? Should have grabbed hers. Can't be unarmed. Not for a second. Better yet? Backup gun. Discussed that, didn't we?"

"How did you find me?"

"GPS. Put it on your cell phone. Figured that's one thing you wouldn't trash. Supposed to be a receiver, too. Piss-poor one."

"Probably interference from the cell."

"Gadgets." He shook his head as he walked over to look at the bodies. "Quick cleanup. Then go. You start – " He turned to me. "Am I allowed to help now?"

I tried to gauge whether he was angry or even annoyed. Impossible to tell, as always, so I said, "I'd appreciate it. Thanks."

There wasn't much to clean. I hadn't removed my gloves. Hadn't been hit by a bullet. Hadn't taken off my wig. My only concern was footprints in the dust that would suggest a fourth party to this lethal spat. A flashlight sweep of the floor, though, showed lots of prints, from lots of boots, presumably the people who'd been using the warehouse as an illegal dump site. I erased the most obvious of mine, and I'd discard the boots. Standard procedure.

As we were leaving, I looked back at the bodies.

"So you were outside listening?" I asked.

"Nah. GPS fucked up, too. Goddamned gadgets. Was at the mark's house. Lost you after that."

Was that the truth? Or did he just not want to take the wind out of my sails by telling me I'd had backup the whole time? As we circled through the shadows to the car, I decided it didn't matter. If he had been there, he'd stayed back, trusting me to handle it. That was enough.

Since I'd taken the rental, Jack had commandeered Evelyn's car, and parked it five blocks from the warehouse. He wanted the rental returned – another step in dissociating ourselves from the scene – so he followed me to drop that off.

Once in the car with him, I finally had the chance to explain what had happened. He'd figured out some of it, but was missing chunks, from the poor reception and from not being able to listen until he'd ditched Quinn, meaning he hadn't heard my playground meeting with MacIver.

When he found out, he cursed Evelyn. Not that he thought she'd done anything wrong intentionally. She just hadn't been careful enough, presuming that because it was clearly the correct client, then it had to be the correct job.

"Don't call her on it, okay?" I said. "I'm done with her and I want a clean break."

"Sure about that?"

"About wanting -?"

"Being done with her? That Contra-whatever lead?" His gaze bored into me as he idled at a light. "You're sure?"

As I stared down the dark street, I realized I wasn't. That morning the answer had been clear. I wanted nothing to do with Evelyn. A sensible, cool-headed, logical decision not to deal with a woman I didn't trust. But now I wondered…

Was it really logical? Or was I just telling myself that to avoid the truth – that I didn't want to hear her offer, didn't dare take the opportunity to discover what I was, what drove me, where I drew the line…

"I-I'm not sure."

"Think about it." He glanced over. "But not indefinitely. Need to give her a deadline. A week. Can you do that?"

I nodded.

"And this…?" he said. "The case?"

"Well, obviously I haven't disbanded the operation. We've got two other couples who knew what was going on, and more who've paid them – including one that has a child they think is rightfully theirs. I have names for the two couples, but they'll likely run for the hills when Keyes or MacIver don't call back tonight to say everything's been taken care of." I took a deep breath. "But that's not my concern. I can't let it be. I've got my proof on the downloaded files. Time to turn over the evidence and back out."

"You okay with that?"

I took a few long minutes considering it, then said, "Yes, I'm okay with that."

Two days later, I was back at Sammi's grave, sitting on the ground, knees pulled up, the setting sun casting an eerie yellow glow over the forest as I told her what had happened. I could imagine what she'd say about that, hearing it as clearly as if she'd been standing there, arms crossed, shaking her head.

Do you know how stupid you look? I can't hear you, you know. A total waste of your time, but I guess if it makes you feel better…