“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

The Usual Suspects

INSTEAD OF HAVING BENICIO FOLLOW US, I DECIDED TO ride with him and let Jaime follow us in her rental car. I had questions, not about why he’d betrayed Lucas, but about the investigation. When Lucas saw his father he’d be too upset to ask about the case, so I’d do it for him.

Benicio confirmed that the Cabals had resumed their investigation. After Joey Nast’s death, they’d changed tactics. No longer content to follow the clues, they’d rounded up the usual suspects—anyone known to have a beef with the Cabals—and were trying to “extract” clues.

“Extract?” I said, the blood draining from my face. “You mean torture.”

Benicio paused. “The Cabals do employ intense interrogation techniques. I would hesitate to use the word torture…But you must understand, Paige, the pressure that the Cabals are under. Not just the pressure, but the fear, the feelings of impotence. Do I think this is the best way to proceed? No. But I’d be hard-pressed to find members of my board who agree. The Nasts are in charge of the investigation now.”

“Because of Joey.”

“Correct.” He gazed out the side window for a moment, then turned to me. “Until last month, the Nasts’ New York office was in the World Trade Center.”

“Did they lose—?”

“Twenty-seven people, out of a staff of thirty-five. The Cabals—we place ourselves above such things. We may kill one another but, as supernaturals, we have little to fear from the outside world. If we are attacked, we have the resources to strike back. But what happened last month…” He shook his head. “There’s no revenge for that, and the Nasts are damned if they’re going to be victimized again.” He looked at me. “You can’t concern yourself with our side of the investigation, Paige, because you can’t stop it.”

“I can if I find the killer.”

He looked at me, then nodded.

I didn’t lie to Lucas. As he so often reminds me, I’m horrible at it. The best I could do was omit damning details about my encounter with Benicio, and slant the story so he’d draw the conclusion that his father had expected Lucas and me to be together. Did he buy it? Probably not, but since I was obviously intent on brokering peace, Lucas decided not to stall the negotiations with a fresh injury complaint.

Once I’d secured Lucas’s approval, I phoned down to Benicio in the lobby and invited him up. Since this was family business, I suggested Jaime take Troy and Morris to the hotel restaurant for coffee. Troy agreed, but Morris decided to wait in the hall.

Less than a minute after I hung up, Benicio rapped at the door. Lucas opened it. Before he could get in so much as a greeting, Lucas cut him short.

“Having renewed the investigation, Paige and I are committed to using all available resources. If you agree to communicate only for the purpose of sharing our findings, I will accept your calls. I trust that whatever leak led to the raid on Everett Weber’s house has been repaired.”

“You have my word—”

“Right now, I could have your blood oath and still not believe you. Perhaps instead you will take my word. If you lie to me again and another person dies because of it, we are through.”

“Lucas, I want to explain—”

“Yes, I know you do, which leads me to my next request. I don’t want to hear your explanation. I know perfectly well what happened. You made an executive decision. To your mind, Weber was obviously guilty and I was questioning that simply because it is my nature to question. Therefore, given the choice between indulging your son’s quixotic whims and saving the Cabal from embarrassment, you chose the Cabal.”

He paused. Benicio opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Lucas continued. “I would like copies of the crime-scene reports for Matthew Tucker and Joey Nast.”

“Uh, yes, certainly. I’ll courier them over right away.”

“Thank you.” Lucas walked to the door and opened it. “Good day.”

“Are you angry with me?” I asked after Benicio left.

He blinked, his surprise at the question answering. “For what?”

“Bringing your father here.”

Lucas shook his head and put his arms around mywaist. “I needed to get those case files, but I have been, I’m afraid, avoiding making the call.”

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

“Besides feeling like an idiot? After twenty-five years of experience, I consider myself a reasonably good judge of my father’s capacity for deception, and yet I never once suspected he wasn’t lobbying to get us an audience with Weber. I can’t believe I was that stupid.”

“Well, I certainly don’t know him anywhere near as well as you do, but I never doubted his intentions, either. He knew you were upset about the raid, so naturally he’d want to get back in your good books by going to bat for you on Weber. It made sense to me.”

“Thank you,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

“I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”

A crooked smile. “I know. That’s one thing I can count on, that you always tell me the truth. With my father, I know he’s not the most trustworthy of men, but I—” He paused. “I can’t help wanting a closer relationship, like we had when I was young. I feel like we should have that again and, somehow, that the onus for reestablishing it falls to me.”