"Darian," Raffi murmurs, stirring beside me. His eyes open, sleepily gazing at me. "What's wrong?"
"What you implied last night. About Julian knowing?"
He furrows his brow, trying to recall amidst the fog of slumber. "Mm. What about it?"
"Later today, I want you to come with me to the Retreat. We need to talk to Julian again."
"About what?" He sits up in bed, wincing at the pain in his back. "I don't think it's a great idea to shake that particular tree too hard, D."
"I think we have to," I say, sitting up with him. "Because Raffi…the truth matters."
Raffi studies my face for a moment before nodding slowly.
Raffi's hand tightens around mine later that morning as we climb the steps to the front door of the Retreat. "Are you sure about this?" he asks.
"Sure as I'll ever be."
But before we can even knock, the door flies open. "Shit," Leo Bernardi says, pulling on a jacket. "Uh—is this important? Only I'm on my way out?—"
"No, sir," I say at once. "We're looking for Julian. I have a message from Mr. Carstairs." I hope Raffi won't be annoyed at my little white lie.
Because it has the desired effect: Leo makes a face. "Never stops with that gardener guy," he sighs. "Julian's out in the redwoods. Taking a walk."
"Then we won't hold you up," I say, pulling Raffi aside as Leo jogs past with a wave of thanks.
Julian is in a part of the grove where the forest floor is carpeted with wildflowers. He strolls over to us as soon as he sees us, a curious smile on his lips. "Well, well," he says. "After all the excitement of the parley, and then the dinner last night, I expected the next few days to be very dull. But here you are again to entertain me."
"I have some questions, Mr. Castellani." I keep my voice even. Controlled. One of us will have to be, and I don't know how Raffi will react, especially after his outright threats to Ms. Rochford last night. "I think you were aware ofallthe events involving Ms. Rochford and Tony Clemenza, and even Chops Lollo's murder during the parley. Yet you didn't speak up, nor did you share any of the audio or video evidence you had at the time. Why?"
Julian arches one eyebrow, looking utterly unsurprised by my accusation. "I'm afraid you're forgetting, Darian, Ididspeak in your defense, to ensure your safety and prove your innocence, and I provided the audio even though I knew Don Castellani would be very cross with me. As for that sneaky little redhead, well—" He pauses momentarily, a wicked glint in his eyes. "—I can neither confirm nor deny any knowledge of her actions."
I don't expect him to own up to that. But I'd still like to know one thing. "You did your own security checks on me, Mr. Castellani, rather than have Mr. Jacopo or Mr. Pedretti run them. Is that true?"
"I just wanted to speed up the process."
"Mr. Castellani," I press on, "I need the truth. Did you hire mebecauseyou knew who my father was?"
Julian looks out through the trees. "You are very talented, Darian. That's why I wanted you. But secrets can be useful," he adds, and looks back to me. "You've learned that, too, haven't you, in your time here? I thought a secret like that might come in handy down the track. Unfortunately, it only made things more complicated in the end. As for the truth—" He scoffs. "Truth is a just a toy. Something to be played around with when necessary."
Raffi's tone is dangerous when he asks, "Is that what you did? Played with the truth for your own ends? Pulled some strings to get the result you wanted from Sandro—sanction to kill AJ Bernardi?"
"Perhaps you should consider that there are greater forces at play here, Raffaello."
"Enough with the riddles!" Raffi snaps, taking a step forward. "Just—just give us a straight answer. We're not going to tell anyone. We just want toknow."
"But you're still asking the wrong questions," Julian replies lightly. "That's the problem."
I grab Raffi by the wrist before he says—or does—something he regrets. "Why didn't Don Castellani immediately demandalltheevidence in your possession when he knew you'd been taping people?"
Julian leans back against a tree, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he meets my gaze. "Ah, now thatisone of the right questions."
"Thenanswerit," Raffi grumbles, his patience wearing thin.
"It's quite simple, really. Sandro needs plausible deniability. And I am happy to provide it."
I think I understand now. Sandro knew perfectly well what Julian could offer him, but hechoseto keep himself in the dark. He could say quite honestly to the other Families that he had nothing to do with the events at the parley and—to his knowledge—nor did any other Castellani.
"You wanted revenge," I say slowly.
