Chapter 23
“Dammit, Benton, did you have to hit her so hard?” Vincent caught Avery as she slumped, knocked out by Benton’s right cross to her poor, bruised jaw. Coppola was complaining as Gilroy and Deming dragged the man away in cuffs, leaving a smear of blood in his wake.
Benton ran his fingers through his hair, looking more upset than he’d had ever seen him, and Vincent could have hugged him. “I didn’t think,” Benton said. “I just…” He glanced at Avery. “I hit her. Sorry, but she was about to off herself.”
Vincent never would have allowed it. “I had her by the wrist. She wasn’t offing anyone.” He cradled her in his arms, worried that she was covered in blood, and not knowing how much was hers.
Millie stood over them, sobbing. “Avery. Avery, don’t leave me.” Vincent reached for her, thinking to pull the girl close, only to have Millie drape herself over Avery.
“She’ll be fine.” Vincent patted Millie’s back, unsure of how to soothe a ten-year-old. Sirens grew louder outside. He glanced at the door. “Who’s rounding up the guards?”
Deming stepped to his side, wiping blood off her hands with a linen handkerchief. “They’re in the wind.” She grimaced at her handkerchief, crumbled it, and stuffed it into her pocket. “We had to choose. Save your ass, or arrest them.”
He nodded, turning back to Avery, worrying. “For shit’s sake, Benton. You split her lip.”
Deming crouched next to them, rubbing Millie’s back. “She going to be okay?”
Vincent glanced at her, thinking she was referring to Avery, but Deming was looking at Millie. “Avery’s The Stinger,” he said. She was the one they needed to be worried about.
Deming nodded. “I listened to the recordings. She didn’t kill those men, Vincent. Coppola forced her to fight them, she won each battle, but didn’t kill anyone. He executed them afterward.”
Vincent closed his eyes, overwhelmed with relief. Avery wasn’t a killer. “Where the hell is the ambulance?”
“I hit her too hard,” Benton said, guilt personified.
Deming pursed her lips. “You shouldn’t have hit her at all.”
EMTs wheeled a gurney in the room, and Vincent lay Avery on it, and then watched as the personnel strapped her on it. He followed, close by, as they wheeled her out of the house. The first ambulance had already driven off, presumably with Coppola and other injured syndicate men. When Vincent made moves to enter the ambulance with Avery, needing to ride with her to the hospital, Benton pressed his palm to Vincent’s chest, stopping him.
“If you want a career after today, walk away.” Benton’s expression revealed more empathy than he’d expected, but he was adamant. “You disobeyed a direct order from Special Agent in Charge. I can fix it, but it means walking away now.” Benton’s phone rang, and after retrieving it from his pocket, soon narrowed his eyes, seeming unnerved by the caller’s identity. “I have to take this.” He turned his back on them.
Millie stepped into the ambulance after the gurney was secured. Avery, still unconscious, would wake upset. He wanted to be there. “What’s going to happen to them?”
Deming rested a hand on his shoulder. “Leave, Modena. She’s in good hands. I promise. It’s not forever, it’s just until Benton can smooth things over. Please. Go.” She nudged him toward a cruiser. “One of the uniformed officers will drive you to the airport. We’ll meet you there. Me and Gilroy have a few loose ends to tie up first.” The ambulance drove away, and Vincent’s opportunity to trash his career by stepping inside was gone. He regretted it immediately.
Local law enforcement had arrived a while ago, but more were still streaming onto the property, rounding up security guards, and leading them into cruisers. It was too much. He didn’t care. He just wanted to follow Avery to the hospital, but no one here could take him and still keep their jobs, so he walked away, thinking to hitch a ride there on his own. To Avery.
He walked out the front gate, past the security booth and down the private road, thinking about the lies she’d told him. He thought about how they’d made love, how he’d thought it was special, life altering even. She’d made him want a future with her. Vincent wondered if she’d played him, and if that even mattered. He loved her. Yeah, his head was messed up, and he didn’t know what to believe anymore. All he knew was how he felt, and how it didn’t match up with the facts.
Avery Toner Coppola aka Patty Whitman was The Stinger. She’d lied as easily as she took a breath, and he didn’t know how this would shake out, but this operation had left its mark on him, and it went deep, like a knife to his heart.
He loved The Stinger.
After a while, having already walked miles down the road, the task force van drove toward him. It was the first vehicle he’d seen since he began walking, so he stepped out of their way, hoping they’d pass because he still wanted to hitch a ride to the hospital. But the van pulled over, and its side door slid opened. First thing he saw was Deming’s worried expression. Gilroy was driving, and Benton was seated in the passenger side, rolling down his window.
“Get in,” Benton said. “We don’t have time for this.” Deming held out her hand, but Vincent shook his head.
“Don’t be stupid,” she whispered. Vincent grimaced, feeling hemmed in. With a sigh, he climbed inside. Moments later, Gilroy had the van moving again.
“They’re expecting us in Boston,” Deming said, sitting on the cooler, her forearms resting on her knees. She glanced at the team leader up front. “We’ve been reassigned. It happened quickly. I guess they have a serial killer, and Benton pulled some serious strings to acquire the case.” She bit her lip. “I’m thinking it’s personal.”
Another case? Vincent felt as if he couldn’t string two words together, and he was supposed to jump into a whole new case? He leaned back against the van’s interior, his palms pressed to the floor to secure himself against the van’s swerves.
It was all so depressing. His new normal. Other than his job, what did he have? Nothing. “Boston is as good a place as any.”
“For what?” Deming studied his face, adjusting herself on the cooler as Gilroy took a turn fast.
“To hear Avery’s killed herself. It’s happening. We both know that.” They’d stopped her at the mansion, but he’d seen her eyes. She’d wanted to die, and he feared next time she’d succeed.
Deming shook her head. “She has Millie. She’ll be okay.”
“Avery will never be okay.” And neither would he. She’d gutted him, and he couldn’t see a way back to normal.
Deming compressed her lips. “She’s indestructible. She had a weak moment. It will pass.”
Vincent didn’t have it in him to argue. Instead, he brooded the whole drive to the airport, shutting everyone out. When the van parked, Vincent jumped out, and left them there without a word. Then he rented a car, and drove back to Saddle River, intent on seeing Avery in the hospital, because he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to be with her, but the Federal Marshalls had arrived and blocked him. From Benton’s many voice mails, Vincent knew the team was on a plane, headed to Boston, so he left a voice mail of his own. He’d meet them there. He didn’t trust where his head was at. Hell, he didn’t trust himself. He needed to be around his team.