close to. So he murdered them. I gotta funny feeling you know that, Vicki. But you’re not gonna say it because you’re covering for your husband. The same guy who’s using you for a piece of meat to show off to his dope friends. The same slimy, ugly motherfucker who strung you out on cocaine and has you turning tricks at a low-rent strip joint.
She was reaching into her purse again, repeating the phantom ritual of her curse. Two minute scoops of the white powder disappeared from the spoon up her nose, and again Phil felt torn between two opposing poles. The part of himself that still cared about her, and then the other part, the cop part, the part that knew if he objected, he’d be letting personal feelings obstruct the integrity of the case.
Holy shit, he thought very slowly. What am I going to do?
The coke was wiring her up now. Her face flushed. She was breathing faster, she seemed antsy. She kept sniffing at nothing but the air, and was rubbing her hands unconsciously up and down her nearly bare white thighs. That must be some first-class blow he’s feeding you, Phil thought. Probably pure. The purer the better, right, Vicki? The easier to keep you in line, to keep you destroying yourself for his wallet and status. Then the saddest reflection of all hit him in the head…
Coke addicts never lasted long. They used themselves up. What would Natter do when there was nothing left of her?
The same thing he probably fucking did to Adams and North and Rhodes and all those other people…
That’s the way it worked. Eventually coke-queens outlived their usefulness. Then they became a liability.
A guy like Natter? He’d toss her out like next week’s garbage.
This was hard. This was a woman he used to be in love with, and here he was sitting in a car with her, watching her coke herself to oblivion. And knowing there was nothing he could do about it made him feel even worse.
But what could he do? Spill it all? Reveal the entire undercover operation to her? She’d squeal in a heartbeat. Or what else? Quit the department, drag her into the county rehab program knowing there was only a ten-percent success rate?
All I can do right now, he commiserated, is play the game.
“Phil?” she asked.
“Yeah?”
He supposed he should have known this was coming. Why hadn’t he foreseen it? She was wired now, coked to the gills, and even though she had undergone a catastrophic change since their relationship had ended, her feelings for him probably hadn’t changed. I’m the only reminder she has that her life hasn’t always been the hell it is now, he figured.
Her hand was on his leg. He could feel its subtle heat.
“How did things get so screwed up?” she asked in the most forlorn voice he ever heard.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Her hand slid up. Her body slid closer. “Why don’t we, like, pretend…that nothing bad ever happened to either of us?”
An impulse reached him, like an alarm. The urge to push her hand away, to berate her, to tell her there was no going back. But instead, he did nothing to dissuade her.
He made no reply at all.
Which, in this particular circumstance, was the same thing as a clear consent.
There was no rebreaking of any old ice. Instead, some weird, inexplicable current in the air drew them closer…
The night joined them.
She was kissing him immediately. Her slender bare arms at once slid about his neck. I cannot do this! he ordered himself. This is crazy! I’m a cop! I’m on a case!
Her tongue licked across his lips.
No more! This is where it ends! I’m going to stop this right now!
She untied her halter, slipped it off…
No! Phil thought.
She slipped off her shorts—
No.
—then her panties.
Nnnnnnn…
Phil’s resolve died flat, like a machine whose tank had just run dry. His eyes opened on her. His heart surged. She sat facing him, her back against the passenger door. The soft moonlight buffed her marble skin; her perfect body glowed.
“You used to say I was beautiful.”
“You still are,” he replied with no forethought at all. The words didn’t even sound like his own. “More than I ever remember.”
She came over to him again, sliding along in the moonlit darkness. Her mouth opened over his, and all he could do was lie back as if comatose. The moon seemed to peer at him, either as an accuser or the very face of his id.
Her warm hands roved all over him, gradually in their travels unbuckling his belt, unfastening his pants, lowering his zipper.
Their tongues slid together.
Her large breasts slid against his chest.
Into his ear she whispered, “I still love you.”
Aw, God, no, don’t say that. Say anything, but don’t say that…
“I-I never stopped,” she finished.
Her hands found his waistbelt, and began to work at getting his pants off.
I can’t be doing this, his thoughts made one last waning effort. Then the effort flitted away, like the fireflies outside.
No, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but by this point he knew he was going to do it anyway.
— | — | —
Seventeen
Phil parked behind the local Qwik-Stop, about a half-mile away, then cut through the woods up to the station. It was perhaps an extreme precaution but a worthwhile one. Now that Phil was insinuating himself among the locals, he couldn’t take the chance of letting his car be seen anywhere near the station. True, he could’ve called Mullins on the phone, but—
Not good enough, he thought, hoofing it past the old lockup and across the back lot.
This has got to be face-to-face.
Phil didn’t like loose ends.
It was just past 9 a.m. when he slipped in through the back door. Mullins, as usual, was pouring himself an acrid cup of coffee and chewing tobacco at the same time.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Mullins chuckled. “Ya know somethin’, Phil? You’re startin’ to look like a pure-bred redneck. Maybe this plainclothes business is bringing out the real you.”
“I hope to Christ not,” Phil said, but he knew what Mullins meant. Boots, old jeans, flannel shirt, plus he hadn’t shaved in two days. To play the part, he had to look the part.
“How come I can always tell when you’re pissed off?” Mullins asked. “You don’t even have to say nothin’. I can tell just by lookin’ at ya.”
Phil sat down. “You know what I did this morning, Chief?”
“Hmm. Let me guess—”
“Don’t bother. I called up the personnel office of the Fairfax Police Department. I also called Montgomery County PD. And neither of them ever heard of North and Adams. Said those guys never even filed
