through security in that time. He held the phone in his left hand as he sped down the highway doing close to ninety.
It had been two years since he’d spent any real time with Danni. She’d shown up at the condo that one day after Jack had taken Felton’s case to express her displeasure, but that didn’t count. He didn’t care about the lapse of time, however. This wasn’t a social call and now that he’d been put on notice, he wasn’t going to let another person die if he could help it. If it was awkward, so what.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Danni, this is Henry Wilson.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, which Henry expected.
“I don’t know if you heard about the murder in Miami.”
“I did. Somebody from the department called me about fifteen minutes ago.”
Her voice was hard and cold. Henry could feel the antagonism on the other end of the line.
“Danni, I’m on my way to the airport.”
“What for?”
“It’s my understanding that your daughter is still in school at Boulder.”
“Henry, I don’t need your help. I’ll take care of my daughter. Don’t you think you and Jack have done enough?”
Henry ignored the remark. “My flight leaves in less than an hour. I figure now that you know, you’re on your way as well. And I assume you’ve instructed Hannah not to go home.”
“I have.”
“And to go to a well-populated public place.”
“Yes.”
“When’s your flight?”
“Four hours from now. I have to drive to Tampa.”
“I’ll be there three hours before you. Tell me where to meet her.”
Again there was silence on the other end.
“Danni, this isn’t about me or you, or Jack for that matter. It’s about Hannah. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anything happen to her. Now where should I meet her?”
“The Boulder Book Store on the mall.”
“Is there a coffee shop nearby?”
“There’s one in the store.”
“Okay, we’ll go there and wait for you to arrive. Then you and I will come up with a plan. Will you call her and tell her to look for me?”
Jack sat on the floor after hanging up with Henry. He didn’t want to get up. Getting up meant dealing with what had happened. Maybe if I just stay here it will all go away. But he knew that was childish thinking. Besides, it wouldn’t work. No matter where he was, he couldn’t just turn off his mind. Couldn’t force himself to go to sleep. There was at least one way to turn it off though. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, grabbed a glass with his right hand, the Jack Daniel’s with his left, and headed for the patio.
He wanted to howl at the moon, although it was a little too early to do that. He wanted to scream about the unfairness of life. But life hadn’t been unfair to him. He’d lost Pat, his wife, to cancer, but that was a far cry from losing both your wife and your daughter at the hands of a psychopathic murderer. Sam Jeffries, not Jack, had an absolute right to howl at the moon. Jack took a long pull from the bottle. He hadn’t needed the glass after all.
Only when he was good and drunk could he return to the scene of what he considered his crime. When he was devoid of the ability to rationalize his actions—that’s when he went back. His soul needed condemnation not vindication.
It was vanity! that little voice inside his head told him when he arrived at the state of mind he so craved. It was all about your vanity! Nobody had ever gotten a serial killer off before—nobody but the great Jack Tobin. You should be proud of yourself, Jack. You did it! And don’t let it bother you, don’t let it ruin your night that the son of a bitch was actually guilty. Somebody else got killed, it’s true, and there may be more, but there are always casualties on a man’s road to success. Some have to fall for others to rise. It’s the nature of the universe.
If Henry was there, Henry would have reminded him of the true facts: You and I came to see Ben Chapman at Chapman’s request, Jack. You didn’t want to take this case. You didn’t even want to look at the file. I talked you into it. Once you saw this man had been set up