Breaking Bad (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“J
esus!” Stevie angrily said as Jack checked for a pulse. It was futile. She was gone.

“She’s still warm, damn it!” Jack cursed.

Guilt washed through Stevie. While she had been worried about orgasming, Joan Schillner paid with her life. “We should have come sooner.”

Jack’s head snapped back and his eyes narrowed. “We
are
early.”

He went to his car and pulled out a high-powered flashlight and shined it into the car. “No cell or purse. Bastard took it.”

“How did he know she was meeting us?”

“I don’t know,” he growled.

“How could he get around with an injured leg?”

“I guess he’s Superman, Stevie.” Jack swiped his hand across his face. “Fuck!” he yelled at the eerie silence. “Son of a
fucking
bitch!” he shouted, punching the air.

The distant wail of sirens echoed around them.

“It’s not your fault, Jack.”

He turned furious eyes on her. “I told her I’d protect her. Now I have to call her mother and tell her over the damn phone that I fucked up and because of it her daughter’s dead, and her granddaughter will grow up without her mother.”

Fire came roaring in. As they pulled up, Jack and Stevie stepped back. It didn’t matter that Miss Schillner was dead. Fire had to make that call themselves and in the process they usually compromised the crime scene.

“Take it easy on the crime scene, guys?” Stevie called.

Shock of shocks, they did.

Within seconds of Fire arriving on scene, Fremont PD showed up.

Jack was on the phone with his men and Stevie was on the phone with hers bringing them up to speed. The BOLF on Spoltori was updated to include homicide.

When it was apparent that there were no personal belongings in the vehicle or on the victim, Jack said, “I’m not waiting until midnight for that warrant. We have enough to get what we want, even if Rincon is a complete hard-ass.”

Stevie nodded, took a quick minute to update the lead Fremont detective with their contact information, then called in this latest development to her Watch Commander.

Jack’s demeanor as they sped up 880 to the courthouse was cold and closed. Stevie gave him that. She’d been there herself a few times. Once they were in judge’s chambers and Stevie explained the latest developments in the case, the judge nodded. As he read through the pages, he made an occasional note on his legal pad, but didn’t ask any questions for clarification. Not that any was needed. She and Jack had written the mother of all warrants. Every single detail was included, all but the latest developments. Only an idiot would be confused.

It took the judge two hours to read through the information and ask questions. Jack stewed silently the entire time.

When Judge Rincon was done, he looked up at Stevie, then Jack, and said, “My compliments. I have never in twenty years sitting on the bench read such thorough, well-drafted paperwork.”

He signed off on the entire warrant. As he handed the pages to Stevie, he said, “Good luck.”

Five minutes later, they were back at HQ with half a dozen FBI techs and several uniforms whom they had called in to stand by for the search and seizure.

“Which one do you want, Jack?” Stevie asked.

“Which one what?” he asked, still in his own world.

“Office or apartment?”

“No separation. We’re doing this together.”

“It will go quicker if we split up.” She handed him the paperwork for Spoltori’s office. “You take the office; I’m heading to his apartment.”

He took the warrant, but grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him. “We work together.”

“What if Spoltori shows up at one while we’re at the other?”

Jack called to Deavers, who had just walked in. “Here’s the warrant for Spoltori’s apartment on Broadway; it covers everything, including all of his electronic devices. Take half our techs to collect the evidence, then take all the electronics straight to Menlo Park. There will be someone at the cyber lab to accept it.”

“You got it.” He took the warrant, three techs, and two uniforms.

Jack looked at the rest of the assembled group. “The rest of you are with us.”

Two hours later, every electronic device within The Edge Fund Group’s offices was bagged and tagged and on its way to the FBI cyber-crime lab in Menlo Park, California. It was cutting edge and Stevie could not have been happier it was so close. Not that they would get instant feedback. Just like any crime lab, the FBI cyber lab was backed up. They not only processed evidence for their own federal cases, but for law enforcement agencies all over the country.

Stevie wasn’t surprised that their search of Spoltori’s desk, file cabinets, and other areas of his office came up clean. He was careful that way. He wouldn’t leave anything incriminating out in the open. With full search authority granted in the warrant, she was sure they’d hit the mother lode when it came to his cell phone and computers.

As the last tech van drove off, Stevie and Jack stood silently on the sidewalk. It was pushing three in the morning. As taxed as they were, they were running on pure adrenaline at the moment.

Spoltori was within their grasp. They would beat the bushes until they flushed him out.

“Let’s go back to my place and regroup before we have to hit the streets,” Jack said, starting for his car.

Stevie nodded, wanting him to talk about his feelings, but not wanting to push. He had closed up so tight; he spoke only when giving a directive. During the search, everyone had skirted around him.

When Jack pulled up to the Alameda Marina she was confused. He grabbed her duffel from the backseat and started for the locked gate without her. He unlocked the gate, held it open for her, and when she passed through he closed it and locked it behind them. He strode down a long pier
and she hurried to keep up.

The night was balmy; the crisp seawater smell, a low breeze tumbling along the pier, the tinkling sound of rigging, and the low swoosh of water splashing against hulls lulled her as they went farther down the pier. Leave it to Jack to live on a boat. Why didn’t she?

“I love the water.”

He didn’t respond, just kept up his pace.

They stopped at a sleek fifty-two-foot Cruiser. Stevie whistled. “Nice dinghy you got there.”

“It works,” Jack said, an edge to his voice.

She chuckled as she noticed the name of the vessel,
Miranda
. “For Miranda rights? Good one, Jack.”

He boarded and unlocked the door to the cockpit. He turned, extending his hand to her, and hauled her on deck. “Welcome aboard,” he said, his manner clipped, then proceeded below decks.

“I’ll put your bag in the forward stateroom,” he said, moving past her.

His words stung because she knew the captain’s stateroom was always aft. It would be the larger of the two staterooms.

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” she said.

“It’s for the best,” he said, not looking at her when he said it.

Stevie swallowed hard. He had been pulling away since they discovered Joan Schillner’s body. She understood that he was upset. So was she. But the blame game would only drive him insane. He was not derelict of duty in any way. Letting out a long breath, she decided to give him space. But before she offered, she wanted to understand the parameters of his needs.

“The best for you or the best for me?” she asked.

“For us both.”

“Speak for yourself, Jack. I’m here because I want to
be
with you.”

“Being with me right now would not be good for you.”

“Again, speak for yourself, and stop making decisions for me that involve me.”

“I don’t want to be with anyone right now,” he said, staring at a mark behind her.

Her heart tightened. “So now I’m anyone?”

“No, of course not, I just want some space.”

Damn his need for space! Moving in on him, she demanded, “How long do you want me to give you said space?” She knew she was sounding pathetic and desperate. And she was. Both. She wanted him, now, Tomorrow. Forever. But he was trying to push her out. Again.

“Permanently.”

Air whooshed from her lungs as if she had been kicked. “Why?” This wasn’t happening.

Still not looking at her, he answered, “It was a mistake, Stevie. I’m sorry.”

He grabbed a glass from the sidebar, opened a bottle of Jameson, and poured a generous portion. He tossed it back and poured another.

Stevie fought the rising hysteria in her heart and collected herself. This was a joke. It wasn’t happening. Jack wasn’t himself. They could work through this. Right?

“Drowning your sorrows will only make it worse, Jack. Take it from someone who knows.”

He glared at her and poured another glass. When he’d tossed that one down, he looked at her, pain shadowing his eyes. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I lost focus.”

“Really? How so?”

“I allowed my personal desires to keep me from what I should have been doing.”

“Which was what, Jack?”

“I should have been there to protect her!”

“You were there! How were you supposed to know Spoltori had a bead on her?”

“It’s my fucking job to know! Instead I was watching you jerk off!”

“It was my job to know, too, but damn it, neither one of us knew Spoltori was following her! How could we?” Shaking her head, Stevie set her hands on her hips and exhaled. “By my oath to protect the public, I let her down too, Jack. As much as I want to take it back, I can’t. Even though we decided to go in early, we still had time to kill. That we chose to kill that time the way we did is irrelevant. Had we stopped for a coffee and wasted some time chatting, the outcome would still be the same. I’m not going to allow a deranged killer’s acts to define me. Or us.”

“I should have been there. I chose you over protecting her.”

Stevie threw her head back and laughed. “Really, Jack? Is that how you’re going to play this out? Is that how you’re going to slide out of this
relationship
before it even gets off the ground?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled, pouring another drink.

“I’m talking about
us,
damn it. You. Me. Together. You trying. Me trying. We’ve been going two hundred miles an hour since you bullied your way into my case. I pushed back, but you pushed harder. Fine, you got to me. I give and now you push me away?” She snatched the glass from his hand and slammed it down on the counter, then got in his face. “Is it too hot in here for you, Jack?”

“My coming back was a mistake.”

“You’re a coward.” She grabbed her duffel and hauled it over her shoulder. “Consider yourself relieved of me, Captain Jack!” she spat. She turned to walk away, praying he would call her out. But he didn’t.

“I’ll have Flynn pick you up and take you to a hotel until we get Spoltori,” he said quietly.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Jack. I’m going home. Tell your Neanderthal friends to stay the hell away from me and my property.”

She walked out, and never once looked over her shoulder.

Jack walked into the squad room the next morning feeling like hell. He hadn’t slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Joan Schillner’s accusing dead eyes.

Making the death notification was just as hard. Because of his fucking hard-on for Stevie, a woman was dead and her daughter was going to grow up without her mother. Yet riding hard on his guilt was his worry about Stevie. Every time he saw Joan’s dead eyes, he saw Stevie’s. The pain in his heart was unbearable. He would never survive losing her to a killer like Spoltori.

He’d called a few guys to keep an eye on her place from a distance. But even so, with Spoltori at large, he wasn’t comfortable knowing she was in that house alone and no matter how badass she thought she was, she was vulnerable.

Swiping his hand across his face, he texted her:
Where are you?

She should have been in by now. He wanted to apologize for leading her on. It was wrong. He shouldn’t have. He wasn’t a relationship kind of guy. Hurting her was the last thing he’d wanted to do, and he’d done it in spades. He felt like shit.

“Thornton,” Captain Russo called to him from his office door, “my office.”

When Jack closed the door behind him, Russo scowled and sat down behind his desk. “What the fuck is going on? Why is Cavanaugh alone on that plane east?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “She, we—” He stood. “I don’t know, sir, we had to push our flight back to tonight because we missed it last night due to the case.”

“Why wouldn’t she inform you? Why aren’t you on that plane with her?” Russo’s dark brows crowded together over his furious eyes. “I only agreed to this because you’re the best street cop I know, second only to Detective Cavanaugh. Somehow you fucked it up. Un-fuck it up and get Spoltori.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack’s instinct was to jump on a plane and follow her. But he told himself she was safer out of the state than in it. He could work the case from this end with no distractions and she could work it from that end with none as well. Plus it would give her a chance to get over him, and he her. Because they were mature adults they could maintain a professional relationship, and despite their high-octane chemistry, they were still a crackerjack investigative team.