Chapter 12 #2
She stares at me for a long moment, something shifting in her eyes. Then she turns and storms away, heading straight for my patrol car. At least she's staying where I can see her, even if she's furious with me.
"Smooth," Declan says behind me. "Really smooth."
"Shut up."
"You basically just yelled at her for almost being murdered."
"I know."
"You should probably apologize." He states the obvious.
"I know."
"Like right now."
"I KNOW." I grit out between my teeth in frustration.
But before I can move, Chance approaches with an evidence bag. "Found something interesting. A timer device in the mechanical room. Professional grade, too. It is set to go off in about three hours."
"Morrison's not smart enough for this kind of device," Declan observes.
"No, but he used to be an electrician before property management," Chance says. "This is definitely his type of handiwork. We also found more accelerant in the basement. Enough to take down the entire block."
Fuck. The entire block. There's a daycare two buildings over.
"Either way, it's evidence," Chance continues. "I'll get this to the lab."
Declan waits until Chance is out of earshot. "Are you okay?"
"No. I just yelled at the woman I love for almost dying. How is that okay?"
"It's not. Go fix it."
He's right. I walk over to where Kendall's leaning against my patrol car, arms crossed, still visibly angry. She sees me coming but won't make eye contact.
"Hey," I say quietly.
"Hey."
I run my hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. When I realized you were in that building with him and smelled the gasoline... I panicked. The thought of losing you—"
"I'm fine, Jax."
"I know that, but what if you weren't? What if we'd been five minutes later?"
"But you weren't." Her voice softens slightly. "You got there in time."
"This time. But what about next time?"
"There won't be a next time."
"You don't know that. Valerie's still out there—"
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she interrupts. "I've been doing it for years."
"I know that, but—"
"No buts, Jax. You have to trust me just as I have to trust you. That's how this works."
I'm almost afraid to ask, but I do anyway. "Is there still a 'this'? An us?"
She finally looks at me directly. "Only if you stop trying to wrap me in bubble wrap."
"I can't promise that."
"Then promise to try."
"Okay. As long as you promise to stay out of buildings full of gasoline."
A small smile tugs at her lips. "I think I can manage that."
I pull her into my arms, relief flooding through me when she doesn't resist. "Good. I didn't want to have to use my cuffs on you."
She laughs against my chest. "You wish, Officer."
My phone rings, breaking the moment. Captain Ramirez.
"Brad Hutchins wants to make a deal," he says without preamble. "Full immunity for testimony."
"Let me guess—he's rolling on Morrison and Valerie?"
"Like a bowling ball. Get back here. This is getting bigger by the minute."
I look at Building 3, now surrounded by crime scene tape and fire trucks. "We need protection on Kendall. Morrison's in custody, but Valerie's still out there."
"The FBIs volunteer!" Gladys shouts from where she's obviously been eavesdropping.
"Absolutely not—"
"We have walkie-talkies!" Betty pulls out a Fisher-Price toy with Dora the Explorer on it.
"I'll stay with her," Eli says, finally appearing with coffee. "Sorry about the delay. Morrison told me you needed me at the station. I made it halfway there before dispatch confirmed you hadn't called. I doubled back, but..." He looks frustrated. "I should've verified immediately."
"He played you," I tell him. "Could've happened to anyone."
"Not happening again. From now on, I verify everything directly with you or the Captain."
"Classic misdirection," Florence nods sagely. "We saw it on NCIS. Or was it Criminal Minds? One of those shows with the attractive people solving crimes."
Two hours later, I'm watching Brad sweat through his cheap suit in interrogation. He's nervous, fidgeting, ready to spill everything to save his own skin.
"Morrison approached me two years ago," he says. "Promised me the property management contract if I helped push out Kendall. I didn't know about the development plans until later."
"When did Valerie get involved?"
"Six months ago. She and Morrison started their affair. He convinced her that getting rid of Kendall would solve both their problems. She wanted to divorce her husband, take his money. Morrison wanted the properties. Match made in hell."
"And the fires?"
"That was all Morrison. I did the vandalism and the flooding, but not fires. I'm not insane." He shifts uncomfortably. "I just wanted the job, not to kill anyone."
"You put cameras in my apartment." I remind him.
He has the decency to look ashamed. "Valerie's idea. She wanted dirt on Kendall." He pauses. "I didn't watch the personal stuff. Much."
My fist clenches, but I maintain control. “How did you get them in there?”
“Valerie said she’d handle it. I think she hired a professional surveillance company to install them. Used a maintenance master key she provided them.”
“How did she get the master key?” I ask, trying to piece the pieces together.
“The installer posed as routine maintenance while you and she were out of the building a few days ago. My only job was to watch the feeds.”
"You're going to testify. Against both of them."
"If it keeps me out of prison? I'll sing like a canary."
The door opens. Declan enters with a grim expression that makes my stomach drop.
"We have a problem. Building 3 is on fire."
"What? How? We just—"
"There was a secondary device. Must have been on a different timer."
We race back to the scene. The building is fully engulfed, flames shooting through windows, black smoke billowing into the sky. Fire trucks surround it, but it's clearly a lost cause.
Kendall stands with the crowd, tears streaming down her face as she watches her building burn.
"All that history," she whispers. "All those memories. Gone."
"It's just a building," I tell her, but we both know it's more than that.
But even as I say it, I wonder if we've caught everyone involved. Morrison seemed too confident for someone whose plan was falling apart. Valerie's still free. And something about this whole thing feels unfinished.
The Walking Ladies appear beside us, their FBI costumes now accessorized with "EVIDENCE" bags they definitely stole from the forensics team.
"We found something," Gladys says quietly, for once not playing for an audience.
"What?"
She hands me a phone. "Morrison dropped this when you arrested him. There are texts. Recent ones."
I scroll through, my blood running cold. The last message sent this morning:
"Building 3 is set. Building 2 tomorrow. Building 1 Thursday. Even if they catch us, the plan continues. The buyer is ready."
"There's someone else," I breathe. "Morrison and Valerie aren't at the top of this food chain."
"Who's the buyer?" Kendall asks, reading over my shoulder.
Before I can answer, another text comes through on Morrison's phone.
Unknown: Saw the arrest of Brad on the news. Unfortunate but irrelevant. Proceed as planned. Will handle the girl myself if necessary. —W.T.
W.T.
We all look at each other, the same realization hitting simultaneously.
"William Thornfield," Kendall whispers. "Valerie's husband."