Chapter 41
She didn’t remember the ride home, though Jane had been sound of mind enough to convince Jenn she’d be fine driving herself back.
Nothing felt real.
She’d been around death before, had even killed a man in the course of duty. But this …
Matthew was a real person to her. Someone she’d talked to, smiled and laughed with. Kissed. They’d been both colleagues and friends. And Jane didn’t have a lot of those.
The numbness that had surrounded her at the crime scene remained in place. Though Jane knew she should feel something, anything, part of her refused to give in to emotion.
She found strength in resilience. Now more than ever, she had to keep it together, to fight for the justice Matthew deserved.
The rook in his hand had been intentional. Obviously. But it felt too over the top.
Or was she supposed to think that?
Rook and Kaminski had been ahead of the game the entire time she’d been playing.
But to kill a senator’s son? The assistant special agent in charge of the Seattle FBI? Who did that and didn’t expect backlash? Or was that the endgame? An all-out assault on the government?
Her head ached, and she felt unclean, her pants coated in Matthew’s blood. A crust of deep red under her fingernails. Remnants of a life now gone.
She couldn’t stop staring at her hands. Time passed.
Someone knocked at the door.
They knocked harder.
She crossed to it and felt as if she moved through water.
A glance through the peephole showed her uncle.
“Jane, let me in.”
She unlocked the door and opened it.
He studied her, his face drawn. Stepping inside, he closed and locked it behind him.
Then he wiped a tear from her cheek that surprised her.
“I didn’t think I was crying.”
He didn’t say anything, pulled her into his arms and held her.
For a moment, she stood stiffly, her mind and body confused as a knot of pain threatened to unravel.
Uncle Chris sighed and hugged her tighter. “It’s okay, Jane. Let it out, honey. I know he was a friend of yours.”
But Jane couldn’t. Instead, she hugged him and tucked her face against her uncle’s shoulder, silent tears of grief all she could manage and still stay whole, though she knew that was a lie.
A tiny fissure had cracked her heart, and she didn’t think she’d recover any time soon.
* * *
It took time, but eventually Jane wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and stopped crying. “Sorry,” she muttered, to which her uncle called her all manner of fool.
“You’re better than me, girl. Cry when you have to. Heck, I didn’t know the man and I feel awful for the loss. From all accounts, Matthew Scott was a good person. Lionel and Haversham liked him, and they don’t like a lot of people.”
She gave a weak chuckle. “Well, if Lionel gave him a thumbs up, he must have been okay.” Her eyes ached, and she grabbed another tissue when more tears threatened to fall.
“I got a breakdown from Lionel on the scene. They found a chess piece in Matthew’s hand?”
“Yeah. A rook.”
Her uncle frowned. “That’s a little obvious, don’t you think?”
“I do think. But I’m not sure if that’s intentional on Rook’s part or not.”
Her uncle sat with her on her couch and pushed a glass of water toward her. “Ah, I see. As in, I’m not afraid to admit what I’ve done. Now it’s your turn.”
Jane nodded. “Or else it’s that big power play we were talking about at dinner.
That Kaminski and Rook are toying with each other.
” Which made more sense, even in her foggy brain.
“Rook writes down Kaminski’s name in that notebook he left with the tortured Louis Miller.
So Kaminski retaliates and leaves a bloodied rook piece behind in Matthew’s hand. ”
Talking about the case cleared the inner cobwebs of heartache still clouding her mind. It gave her a safety line. Clinging to facts and reason felt better, so Jane tucked back the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her again.
Her uncle studied her. “That’s smart reasoning.”
“I need you to stay out of this.”
He blinked at her. “Say that again?”
“This is a matter for the FBI and the police. We’re going to catch these criminals and put them away for life.”
“Seriously?” Uncle Chris gaped at her. “You know there’s another way to handle this. An easier way.”
“Not for them.” Jane clenched her hands, needing to wrap them around Kaminski’s and Rook’s necks. “I want everyone to know they lost. They need to go away forever. Death is too easy.”
He nodded, his gaze fierce. “Now that, I understand. Real vengeance. I’m sorry, justice, for you law enforcement types. Only if you’re sure, because I’m happy to pull a few guys back to make this work. We can net all of them and bury the bodies where no one will find them.”
“No. I want everyone to find their pathetic bodies rotting behind bars. Yes, Kaminski has reach. His hold on this city is insidious and feels never-ending. But he’s not God. He needs to be reminded of that.”
“There’s my Janey.”
She gave him the ghost of a smile.
“What do you want me to do?”
She thought about it. “I’m not a hundred percent clear yet. Tonight really threw me.”
“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t. Sure, Team Ten works under the gun on most missions. Adrenaline is a rush, and much of what we do is life or death. But eventually you come off that high, and then you feel it hit. We’ve lost members, Jane.”
She remembered Grant and Helo, part of her family, years ago, before each had fallen during ops that were considered successful despite losing members.
“I never forget them. Ever. They’re not with the team any longer, but they’re with us in spirit.
And those idiots would say the same if they were still alive.
” The bittersweet fondness lingered in his sad smile.
“Carry them, but don’t let them drag you down.
” He stared into her eyes. “You’ll find who did this to your friend, and you’ll do the right thing.
But do not ever let guilt and fear worm their way inside you, or you’ll get sloppy.
Dying before you make those bastards feel the pain they deserve isn’t satisfying at all. ”
She agreed, though the loss of Matthew would leave a wound for sure. “How long did it take before you stopped wondering what you could have done better?”
“I don’t think that way. Second-guessing yourself is the kiss of death. You remember that.”
“I’ll try.”
He poked her in the forehead.
“Ow.”
“Don’t try. Do. Unless you pulled the trigger that took your man out, you are not responsible. You get me?”
“I guess.” But he left a lot of latitude for ties to guilt. What if she’d spoken out of turn and the wrong person overheard? What if she’d been sloppy with information or evidence and—
He flicked her on the nose.
“Hey!” she said. “Stop it!”
“Then stop overthinking. Go shower and hit the rack. I’m going to hang out here tonight. No arguments.”
She frowned at him but couldn’t help giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Uncle Chris.”
He grunted at her, put on the television, and settled into the sofa.
Jane took a long, hot shower, careful to scrub away every lingering bit of blood from her body.
Then she sagged down in the stall and let herself cry until she had no more tears left.
Feeling lighter, she finished and got ready for bed.
Don’t worry, Matthew. I’ll find out who did this. I’ll put Kaminski away if it’s the last thing I ever do.
Then she slept.
* * *
It was late when an unknown number appeared on his phone. He answered anyway, having expected the call. “Yes?”
The caller chuckled. “Well played. I hadn’t expected the sacrifice.”
“You should have known better,” he answered, satisfied that the game had resumed, as it was meant to be played. “It’s your move.”
He hung up, curious to see how the pawns would react, and if the queen would sacrifice herself to save the game. Or to end it.