He walked down the driveway, past the FOR SALE sign staked into the lawn, a bright red SOLD sticker plastered across it diagonally.
“I miss Mommy,” Samantha said.
“Me too, Sam.”
Phin opened the mailbox, and took out a stack of mail. Bills, crap, and two important pieces of mail, both addressed to him.
He brought Sam back inside, sidestepped several cardboard boxes filled with packed stuff, and suffered the soulful greeting of Duffy the dog, who howled like he hadn’t seen Phin in years.
“I was gone for forty seconds,” he told Duffy.
Duffy bumped Phin with his head and howled again, demanding to be petted. Phin gave him a scratch behind the ears, then walked into the kitchen, past more boxes. He set Sam on the counter, then opened the mail.
The first was from the Retirement Board of the Policemen’s Annuity and Benefit Fund. It was a letter saying that Jack Daniels’s pension had been transferred over to her surviving spouse, Phineas Troutt, and the new address was being processed.
The second was from the Coroner’s Office in Mexicali.
Phin didn’t like to think about Mexico. It had been, without question, the worst time of his life.
After Jack had blown the compound, a merc with an eyepatch named Heath had driven them all to a hospital in Mexicali, where Phin had stayed for two weeks under a fake name. Each day of recovery was nerve-wracking, fearfully waiting for the authorities, or Cardova’s cartel, to somehow connect him to the destruction of the arena in the Vizcaíno desert. It had gotten international attention, and dozens of bodies had been recovered from the rubble.
The corpses of Herb Benedict and Tequila Abernathy weren’t among those found. Phin hoped that somehow, maybe, they’d survived their lethal wounds and were sipping margaritas on a beach somewhere.
It was a nice fantasy. But there was no way it could possibly be true.
The only remains of Jacqueline Daniels discovered was a severed arm. The fingerprints matched Jack’s, but Phin had identified it at first sight from the inscribed wedding band he’d bought her.
For forever and beyond.
That’s what the letter referenced. That the coroner’s examination was complete, and Phin could pick up Jack’s remaining personal effects.
The ring.
“Are you crying, Daddy?”
Phin wiped his eyes.
“Is it because you miss Mommy, too?”
“Yes, that’s why, Sam.”
“Can we call her?”
Phin picked up his daughter and held her, tight.
“You’re squeezing too hard, Daddy.”
“That’s because I love you so much. Are you excited that we’re moving to a new house?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be near Grandma. And we can go to the beach all the time, and swim in the ocean. Won’t that be fun?”
“Yes. I want to call Mommy.”
“Sam…”
“Please, Daddy. Please call Mommy. I miss her so much.”
Phin set her down. Then he took out his phone and hit redial.
“Hi, honey,” Phin said when his wife picked up. “Our progeny misses you.”
“I’ve only been gone for three hours,” Jack said. “I’m not even out of Illinois yet.”
Phin had wanted to sell the car and buy a new one when they got to Florida, but Jack had decided she wanted to take a road trip and clear her head. He didn’t argue. She hadn’t taken Herb’s death well.
However, Jack had been very excited about her own death. She’d even gone to her own funeral, in disguise and standing in the crowd. After coming to the realization that she’d never be free of her past, Jack took the opportunity that Vizcaíno represented and ran with it, making sure the world thought she died in that explosion. Fleming hacked the CPD database and swapped out her prints with Katie’s, McGlade planted the arm with the ring, and now Jack had a fake last name and a whole new life. One without any sort of past that could come back to haunt her or the people she loved.
“Want to go to Mexico again?” Phin asked. “We can pick up your ring. Make a vacation out of it.”
“I don’t think I’m ready to go back. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. Can they FedEx it?”
“I’ll ask.”
“Hey, you know that inscription you wrote?”
“For forever and beyond?”
“Yeah. I keep forgetting to ask you, did you steal that from the movie Toy Story 2?”
Phin laughed. “Of course not, honey.”
He was telling the truth. Phin hadn’t cribbed that line from Toy Story 2. He’d taken it from the first Toy Story movie. But to infinity and beyond didn’t sound as romantic as Phin’s version.
“McGlade called me earlier,” Jack said. “The dog just ate his couch.”
“She’s a big dog.”
“Harry says she still mopes around a little. Misses Tequila. But Harry Junior loves her, and I think Harry does, too. Kinda funny. McGlade has spent years looking for a pet. He had fish and monkeys and parrots and pigs. When this whole time all he needed was a dog.”
“Sometimes we don’t know what we want in life until it’s sitting right in front of us,” Phin said, looking at his daughter.
“Indeed.”
“You okay that he changed her name from Rosalina to Herb?”
“We all mourn in our own ways. I miss him, Phin.”
“Me, too.”
Jack sniffled, then said. “Interesting fact; Katie’s last name was Glente. Glente is the Danish name for a specific bird of prey. In English, it’s known as a kite.”
“She was, as McGlade put it, crazypants.”
“Crazypants McButtnutspants.”
“I’m glad that part of our life is finished.”
“Yeah. I feel free, Phin. Like I’ve never felt before. We’re about to start a whole new chapter.”
“Just a new chapter?” Phin said, smiling. “I have the feeling we’re going to start a whole new book.”
Sam had been tugging at his arm so hard she was practically hanging from it.
“Here’s your daughter.”
He handed the phone over and Sam blurted out, “Hi, Mommy!”
Phin watched his daughter talk to his wife, then touched the scar on his belly.
Mexico had been the worst time in his life. No contest.
But if he had to do it again for those two beautiful ladies, he would.
He’d do it again and again and again. And a thousand times again.
For forever and beyond.
THE END
The following is a preview of WHITE RUSSIAN,
the eleventh Jack Daniels thriller by J.A. Konrath
Somewhere in the USA
He opened his eyes to a world of pain. Everything hurt.
But being in pain meant being alive.
He was on his back. Immobile. Bandages covering his body.
He tried to move his arm.
Couldn’t.
Not because of an injury. But because he was handcuffed to the bed.
“Nurse?” he called, his voice a painful rasp.
“No nurses. This isn’t a hospital.”
He turned, and saw a familiar but scarred face occupying the cot next to him, similarly handcuffed.
“Where are we?”
“I don’t know yet,” the man said. “But it’s bad.”
“How bad?”
The man frowned. “Bad enough that we’re both going to wish we hadn’t survived Mexico.”
JACK
Fort Myers, Florida
For the first time in my life, I had a life.
I was in such a good mood that I didn’t even mind getting a call from my ex-partner, Harry McGlade.
“Hiya, Jackie. How’s things?”
“Wonderfully boring. I feel great, Harry. It’s truly a joy not to be involved with anything dangerous.”
“Good for you. I’m Glad. Now I need your help with something dangerous
.”
I didn’t hesitate. “No.”
“You didn’t even hear my pitch.”
“I don’t care, McGlade. I’m out. No more police work. No more detective work. My guns are in storage. The only cases I’m taking are cases of beer.”
“You know I’ve got this blog, right?” he went on, undeterred.
“Yeah. I read it all the time,” I lied.
“What do you know about human trafficking?”
“I know enough that I’m not helping you.”
“Slavery is still a big business, Jack. Do you know that it’s estimated that there are more than thirty million people enslaved today? And we’re not just talking third world. It’s happening right here, in the good old US of A.”
“Tragic. Heartbreaking. Terrible. I mean that. And I’m not helping you with any cases.”
“Remember Mexico?”
That hit a nerve. “Of course I remember Mexico.” Some good people had died south of the boarder, helping me out. “Are you calling in a favor?”
“No. I’m doing you a favor.”
“This doesn’t sound like a favor.”
“What if I told you,” McGlade said, “that someone we thought was dead wasn’t actually dead?”
I sat up in my chair so fast I spilled my coffee.
“What are you saying, Harry?”
“I’m on my way to your place right now,” Harry said. “I’ll tell you in person in about ten minutes.”
Then he hung up, leaving me to wonder if Harry was talking about an old friend…
Or an old enemy.
WHITE RUSSIAN by J.A. Konrath
Coming December, 2016.
AUTHOR AFTERWORD
The story Luther Kite enjoyed from that old issue of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine was published March 2005. It was called The Agreement and was written by me.
You can find the story on Amazon, or get it for free on my website. Be warned, though; it’s a mean one.
As for who is still alive after the ending of LAST CALL, readers will find out in the next Jack Daniels thriller, WHITE RUSSIAN. But I gotta tell you; my wife threatened to divorce me if I killed any of the characters she loves.
Since I love my wife, I’ll let you guess who survived.
Thanks for reading!
Joe Konrath
WHISKEY SOUR
Lieutenant Jacqueline “Jack” Daniels is having a bad week. Her live-in boyfriend has left her for his personal trainer, chronic insomnia has caused her to max out her credit cards with late-night home shopping purchases, and a frightening killer who calls himself ‘The Gingerbread Man’ is dumping mutilated bodies in her district.
While avoiding the FBI and its moronic profiling computer, joining a dating service, mixing it up with street thugs, and parrying the advances of an uncouth PI, Jack and her binge-eating partner, Herb, must catch the maniac before he kills again…and Jack is next on his murder list.
WHISKEY SOUR is the first book in the bestselling Jack Daniels series, full of laugh-out-loud humor and edge-of-your-seat suspense.
THE LIST
There are six books in the Konrath/Kilborn Collective. ORIGIN, THE LIST, AFRAID, TRAPPED, and ENDURANCE are the first five, and can be read in any order. The sixth, HAUNTED HOUSE, contains characters from each of the previous books.
A billionaire Senator with money to burn…
A thirty year old science experiment, about to be revealed…
Seven people, marked for death, not for what they know, but for what they are…
THE LIST by J.A. Konrath
History is about to repeat itself.
WEBCAM
Someone is stalking webcam models.
He lurks in the untouchable recesses of the black web.
He’s watching you. Right now.
When watching is no longer enough, he comes calling.
He’s the last thing you’ll ever see before the blood gets in your eyes.
Chicago Homicide Detective Tom Mankowski (THE LIST, HAUNTED HOUSE) is no stranger to homicidal maniacs. But this one is the worst he’s ever chased, with an agenda that will make even the most diehard horror reader turn on all their lights, and switch off all Internet, WiFi, computers, and electronic devices.
Jack Kilborn reaches down into the depths of depravity and drags the terror novel kicking and cyber-screaming into the 21st century.
WEBCAM
I’m texting you from inside your closet. Wanna play? :-)
JOE KONRATH’S
COMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY
JACK DANIELS THRILLERS
WHISKEY SOUR
BLOODY MARY
RUSTY NAIL
DIRTY MARTINI
FUZZY NAVEL
CHERRY BOMB
SHAKEN
STIRRED with Blake Crouch
RUM RUNNER
LAST CALL
SHOT OF TEQUILA
SERIAL KILLERS UNCUT with Blake Crouch
LADY 52 with Jude Hardin
65 PROOF short story collection
FLOATERS short with Henry Perez
BURNERS short with Henry Perez
SUCKERS short with Jeff Strand
JACKED UP! short with Tracy Sharp
STRAIGHT UP short with Iain Rob Wright
CHEESE WRESTLING short with Bernard Schaffer
ABDUCTIONS short with Garth Perry
BEAT DOWN short with Garth Perry
BABYSITTING MONEY short with Ken Lindsey
OCTOBER DARK short with Joshua Simcox
RACKED short with Jude Hardin
BABE ON BOARD short with Ann Voss Peterson
WATCHED TOO LONG short with Ann Voss Peterson
BANANA HAMMOCK
CODENAME: CHANDLER SERIES
EXPOSED with Ann Voss Peterson
HIT with Ann Voss Peterson
NAUGHTY with Ann Voss Peterson
FLEE with Ann Voss Peterson
SPREE with Ann Voss Peterson
THREE with Ann Voss Peterson
FIX with F. Paul Wilson and Ann Voss Peterson
RESCUE
THE KONRATH/KILBORN HORROR COLLECTIVE
ORIGIN
THE LIST
DISTURB
AFRAID
TRAPPED
ENDURANCE
HAUNTED HOUSE
WEBCAM
DRACULAS with Blake Crouch, Jeff Strand, and F. Paul Wilson
HOLES IN THE GROUND with Iain Rob Wright
THE GREYS
SECOND COMING
THE NINE
GRANDMA? with Talon Konrath
WILD NIGHT IS CALLING short with Ann Voss Peterson
TIMECASTER SERIES
TIMECASTER
TIMECASTER SUPERSYMMETRY
TIMECASTER STEAMPUNK
BYTER
EROTICA
(WRITING AS MELINDA DUCHAMP)
FIFTY SHADES OF ALICE IN WONDERLAND
FIFTY SHADES OF ALICE THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS
FIFTY SHADES OF ALICE AT THE HELLFIRE CLUB
WANT IT BAD
FIFTY SHADES OF JEZEBEL AND THE BEANSTALK
FIFTY SHADES OF PUSS IN BOOTS
FIFTY SHADES OF GOLDILOCKS
THE SEXPERTS – FIFTY GRADES OF SHAY
THE SEXPERTS – THE GIRL WITH THE PEARL NECKLACE
THE SEXPERTS – LOVING THE ALIEN
Sign up for the J.A. Konrath newsletter. A few times a year I pick random people to give free stuff to. It could be you.
http://www.jakonrath.com/mailing-list.php
I won’t spam you or give your information out without your permission!
LAST CALL
Copyright © 2016 by Joe Konrath
Cover and art copyright © 2016 by Carl Graves
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights res
erved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the authors.
June 2016
Last Call - A Thriller (Jacqueline Jack Daniels Mysteries Book 10) Page 27