She gave him the ghost of a smile.
“What do you want me to do?”
She thought about it. “I’m not a hundred percent clear yet. Tonight really threw me.”
“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t. Sure, Team Ten works under the gun on most missions. Adrenaline is a rush, and much of what we do is life or death. But eventually you come off that high, and then you feel it hit. We’ve lost members, Jane.”
She remembered Grant and Helo, part of her family, years ago, before each had fallen during ops that were considered successful despite losing members.
“I never forget them. Ever. They’re not with the team any longer, but they’re with us in spirit. And those idiots would say the same if they were still alive.” The bittersweet fondness lingered in his sad smile. “Carry them, but don’t let them drag you down.” He stared into her eyes. “You’ll find who did this to your friend, and you’ll do the right thing. But do noteverlet guilt and fear worm their way inside you, or you’ll get sloppy. Dying before you make those bastards feel the pain they deserve isn’t satisfying at all.”
She agreed, though the loss of Matthew would leave a wound for sure. “How long did it take before you stopped wondering what you could have done better?”
“I don’t think that way. Second-guessing yourself is the kiss of death. You remember that.”
“I’ll try.”
He poked her in the forehead.
“Ow.”
“Don’t try. Do. Unless you pulled the trigger that took your man out, you are not responsible. You get me?”
“I guess.” But he left a lot of latitude for ties to guilt. What if she’d spoken out of turn and the wrong person overheard? What if she’d been sloppy with information or evidence and?—
He flicked her on the nose.
“Hey!” she said. “Stop it!”
“Then stop overthinking. Go shower and hit the rack. I’m going to hang out here tonight. No arguments.”
She frowned at him but couldn’t help giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Uncle Chris.”
He grunted at her, put on the television, and settled into the sofa.
Jane took a long, hot shower, careful to scrub away every lingering bit of blood from her body.
Then she sagged down in the stall and let herself cry until she had no more tears left.
Feeling lighter, she finished and got ready for bed.
Don’t worry, Matthew. I’ll find out who did this. I’ll put Kaminski away if it’s the last thing I ever do.
Then she slept.
* * *
It was latewhen an unknown number appeared on his phone. He answered anyway, having expected the call. “Yes?”
The caller chuckled. “Well played. I hadn’t expected the sacrifice.”
“You should have known better,” he answered, satisfied that the game had resumed, as it was meant to be played. “It’s your move.”
He hung up, curious to see how the pawns would react, and if the queen would sacrifice herself to save the game. Or to end it.
Chapter 42
Jane wokeup early the next morning. For a moment, she felt normal. But as she reached for her running clothes, she stopped, recalling Matthew’s murder.
