Two days had gone by since that night. I felt ten pounds lighter, and by the expression on Amber’s face, she did too. Happiness and a sense of justice for our dad filled our hearts again. Life would be better now. What needed to be done was done, and now we could move forward with our lives in peace. We’d never get our dad back, but I felt justified with my actions. Max was dead, and nobody deserved death more than he did.
I guzzled down my half cup of cold coffee and kissed Amber’s cheek. She handed me a travel mug filled with more Colombian brew.
“What would I ever do without you?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know and don’t plan to find out. I love you, Jade, and I hope to be as brave as you are someday.”
I smiled. “It needed to be done, honey, that’s all. Anyway, I’m checking in at the office, and I need to fill out the same slew of papers I did at the sheriff’s department. After that, I’m asking for a couple days off. I have some loose ends to tie up.”
She raised her brows as she took a sip of coffee. “Like what?”
“Like taking care of unfinished business, but I promise to call you later. I may not be home until tomorrow.” I checked the time and grabbed my overnight bag. “I’ve got to go. I love you, Amber.”
“Back at ya.”
I drove the forty minutes to work with renewed joy. The anger that had eaten at me for almost six months was gone. I couldn’t imagine encountering another criminal as sadistic and demented as Max Sims, other than his own father, but I couldn’t predict the future.
Unlike Kate. I grinned at the thought. She could have warned us that Max Sims was going to take her hostage. I reminded myself to rib her about that at a later date.
I didn’t know what kind of criminals I’d be led to down the road, but whoever they were, I’d do my best to bring them to justice.
I slowed at the driveway and turned in then parked next to J.T.’s Corolla. I knew at some point I’d have to have a serious talk with him about his choice of vehicle. Maybe he’d want to donate that car to his sister and get something more manlike. I looked back at my Cobra and nodded. “Yeah, like you.”
On my way into work, I had called ahead and asked Spelling for two days off. There was important personal business I had to address. He agreed, but first I had to complete the necessary paperwork that pertained to Max. The man didn’t deserve a millisecond of my thoughts any longer, but red tape always followed a shooting that involved law enforcement.
Once the hour-long questioning and paperwork were complete, Spelling walked me down the hallway to the back door.
He raised a brow as we stood near the exit. “You’re quite an agent, Jade, and I’m impressed by your bravery. Tell me one thing before you leave.”
“Sure. What’s that, boss?”
“You aren’t going to do anything today that you’ll regret later, are you?”
“Not in the least. Actually, it’s way overdue, and I promise to behave.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see you in two days.”
The drive was nearly three hours long, and that was just my first stop. I had planned ahead since I didn’t want to waste any time getting there. The small insulated lunch bag on the passenger seat held everything I needed. I pulled out the bottle of iced tea and the sandwich I had made last night and put in the Ziploc bag. I ate my lunch as I drove.
I arrived at the outer gates of WSPF Boscobel at twelve thirty. I showed the guard my badge and told him I was on the list to visit inmate number 450-A72. He checked the visitors’ sheet and nodded then raised the gate and allowed me through. I parked my car and walked to the first door. I knew the routine. I had to sign in, wait until called, deposit all my belongings into a locker, go through a pat down, and then finally, after close to forty-five minutes of preparation, I’d be face-to-face with Darryl Sims. The inconvenience would be well worth it. The last time I had visited the man, he won. He wouldn’t be lucky twice.
I had requested a private meeting with him and asked for anonymity. Darryl had no idea who his visitor would be. I wanted to see his initial expression when he saw me. That would be an expression I would hang on to and remember. That day, I would deliver the best news ever to the father of the worst criminal I had ever dealt with.
With the guard at my side, I stared at Darryl through the one-way mirror. Darryl sat linked up to the stainless steel table, and he tapped his fingers with obvious impatience. I’m sure he was anxious to find out who his visitor was. The orange jumpsuit he wore looked unusually large on him. Something was off. He was thinner, and his skin looked ashen.
I pointed at Darryl through the glass. “What’s up with him?”
“He’s old and sick. I heard he has terminal cancer.”
“So he’s going to die?”
“Sooner or later, ma’am.”
“Sooner sounds good.” I jerked my head toward the door. “Let me in.”
The guard unlocked the steel door between me and the man that had called the shots in my father’s death. I wanted to jump over the table and kill him with my bare hands, but I had something else in mind. I crossed the threshold, and the heavy door closed at my back. Darryl’s eyes widened, and he was clearly surprised. He threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“If I didn’t know better, Sergeant Monroe, I’d say you have a crush on me. Coming back for more abuse?”
I leaned over the table, just out of his reach. “Get your facts straight, asshole, I’m an FBI agent now.”
He laughed even harder. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
“I don’t care if it does or not, I’m just stating the facts. You see, as an FBI agent, I can go anywhere. I’m not stuck within Wisconsin borders anymore, but I’ll get to that in a minute. I just heard some good news, Darryl.”
“Yeah, what’s that, bitch?”
“I heard you have terminal cancer. Think of the money that’s going to save us taxpayers.” I chuckled when he wrenched at the chains. “What? Did my comment hurt your feelings? Let’s get down to the real reason I’m here. God knows, I wouldn’t waste three hours of my life driving here to visit you unless it was important. Anyway, back to the thing about being in the FBI.”
“Yeah, why don’t you get to the point?”
I smiled and checked my manicure for a minute. “Okay, here we go. Now that I can chase criminals anywhere, imagine my surprise when the name John Pratt popped up on my radar.” I took a seat across from him and noticed how quickly his demeanor changed. “Oh, so you know that name?”
“I don’t know shit.”
I chuckled. “Finally, something we agree on. But I did notice how quickly you became nervous when I said John Pratt.” I leaned in even closer. “Are you sure that name doesn’t ring a bell? From where I sit, there’s only one person that has used his name recently, and now you’re wondering how I know that.” I kicked his chained leg under the table. “Right, Darryl? Cat got your tongue? The only other piece of shit to use John Pratt’s name lately would be your son, Max, and now your thoughts are all over the board, aren’t they? Let me ease your mind and make things perfectly clear for you. Two nights ago I put a bullet in John Pratt’s—I mean, Max’s—head. Yeah”—I slapped my hands together—“he’s dead now and as stiff as a board in the morgue’s freezer. His lifeless body will be slid into the incinerator soon enough. I guess that didn’t work out the way you had envisioned, did it? Was my death supposed to be the coup de grace before you kicked the bucket, the final order for Max to fulfill? Sucks for you, but I’m kind of stoked. You see, I’m healthy and plan to live a long life, but you? Now you can die from cancer and join your son in hell. This time you lose, and I win. The bad guy always loses in the end, Darryl. Why do you think you’ve spent the last twenty years in this hellhole? Enjoy what’s left of your disgusting life.” I pushed back from the table, turned away, and walked out. Silence surrounded me as the door slammed at my back. That time, Darryl Sims wasn’t laughing.
I collected my belongings and left WSPF Boscobel, hopefully for the last time. Before I drove away, I pulled up the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list on my phone and scrolled to the picture of Max. This time when I stared at his face, a red banner across the image read Deceased. I smiled, clicked off, and headed south as another lengthy drive lay ahead of me. I’d stop for dinner at a restaurant along the freeway then continue on to Iroquois Memorial Hospital in Watseka, Illinois. A sweet, young lady was in need of some good news.