The Killing League - By Dani Amore Page 0,68

probably involved somehow in law enforcement. Past or present.”

Mack considered his hunch, based on what Reznor had told him. He couldn’t mention it now, though. Not to Whidby.

“I knew letting you get involved would be a mistake. Get out of here,” Whidby said. “Now.”

Mack got to his feet.

“The only reason you brought me here was to scapegoat me if you fucked up, which is what you’re doing right now.”

“Get out,” Whidby said.

“If you really want to catch this guy—”

“Get the fuck out!” Whidby shouted.

Mack left, slamming the door behind him.

97.

The Commissioner

He knew the house well. Nicole Candela’s bungalow was so typical. He could picture the bitch telling friends about her “cute little house” like it was her choice to live here, rather than a big mansion in Beverly Hills or Malibu.

Such bullshit.

He’d been inside. When she’d gone on one of her long hikes in the hills, he’d slipped in and gone through everything. The big bed, the artwork of local artists on the walls, the cozy living room and the big gourmet kitchen.

He knew Nicole Candela very, very well.

He’d even gone through her silly little scrapbook. The Commissioner guessed it was probably some kind of tool for therapy. To help her look on the bright side of things. He laughed. Yeah, she’d see how well that would work.

The Commissioner’s mind went back to that moment in the woods, when it was just the three of them: Nicole, Kostner and himself.

Or so he had thought.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, camouflaged by the thick stand of trees to the left of the action. He had a gun and he was ready to use it. He wasn’t quite sure how he wanted to play this. He could be a hero, but he could also be the one taking all the pleasure.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Kostner started talking and playing with the knife, wasting time. He almost took over, but before he could move, the bitch yanked out the punji stick and buried it in Kostner’s throat.

He started to break cover from his hiding spot, get in there and try to stop it, but it was too late.

And then that fucking asshole Wallace Mack stumbled into the clearing, tied off the bitch’s wounds and carried her out of the clearing. He saved her life. A fucking hero. And he would probably get credit for finding Kostner.

All the planning, all the effort, all the help he’d given Kostner as part of his master plan.

All ruined.

Forever.

Ruined by Wallace Mack and the bitch Nicole Candela.

He wept. He wept as he ran back to his car to get the hell away before the cops showed up.

He was gone, and no one ever knew he was there.

But by then, everything had changed.

The Commissioner parked his car, got out, and walked toward Nicole Candela’s house.

After all this time, he was finally going to exact his revenge.

He was going to finish the job that Jeffrey Kostner had botched three years ago in that clearing in the woods.

98.

Mack

Mack couldn’t decide what pissed him off more: Whidby’s arrogance, or his utter lack of clear thinking. The man only had vision when it came to covering his ass, or kissing someone else’s ass to get ahead.

He called Reznor’s cell again, but it went to voicemail.

He gripped the wheel. He drove too fast, and the sense that things were spinning out of control nearly overpowered him. Adelia killing a man at his home. The attack on Nicole. Reznor in the ER.

He had to stop this, and stop it now.

He called the D.C. office and asked to be put through to Wanda Fillmore. He prayed that she was in.

She picked up on the first ring.

“Agent Fillmore, it’s Wallace Mack,” he said, trying his best to sound calm and controlled. Whidby had probably already painted him as a raging lunatic to the entire Bureau.

“How is Agent Reznor?” she said. Mack remembered how Fillmore had blushed at Reznor’s compliment. There had been an unspoken bond of respect between them. He could use that.

“She survived, but they tried to cut her eyes out,” Mack said.

He heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

He had to push his advantage.

“Wanda, I know you looked into the access records for the cases Reznor and I discussed with you.”

“I did,” she said.

“And I know that you gave your report on those to Whidby,” he said.

“Yeah, he didn’t seem real interested in the details, just the locations,” she admitted.

“Locations?” Mack said. “Plural?”

He heard Fillmore tapping the