Casale gave Jono a pointed look as he went behind his desk to start shutting down his computer. “You don’t speak for the packs.”
“I trust Jono more than I trust Estelle and Youssef. Besides, he’s an independent and so is our vic,” Patrick said.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Casale frowned. “This case is going to get messy.”
“Tell me about it. Is Catherine fast-tracking the autopsy?”
“Yes. I’ve signed off on the overtime. Body like that in a warded subway tunnel? You can bet people will be questioning the protection. I had a call with the president of the MTA about an hour ago. They’re initiating a survey on the wards in that area tonight. They’re hoping to beat morning rush hour.”
“Good. Let me know what they find out.”
“So long as you’re more of a party player than last time. Try not to get knocked out and go off grid for twenty-four hours or more this time.”
“I’ll do my best,” Patrick said, not promising anything.
Casale nodded. “All I can ask for.”
Their working relationship in June had ended on a high note, despite the mess that happened. Casale’s good name hadn’t been dragged too deep through the mud since the SOA took the brunt of the public’s anger. Patrick didn’t have his finger on the pulse of NYPD internal politics, but he figured since Casale was still around and leading the PCB it was a sign of tacit approval from the brass at One Police Plaza.
Casale shifted his attention to Jono. “Unless you’re here under Marek’s order, this case doesn’t concern you no matter what Patrick thinks.”
Jono’s mouth ticked downward a bit. “You know I’m an independent and a better source than the god pack alphas.”
“But you aren’t the New York City god pack alpha, despite your background. I can’t discuss the case with you.”
“I’d rather work with Jono than Estelle and Youssef,” Patrick said.
“I won’t tell you how to run your cases, but I need to abide by the law for mine. City ordinance requires me to go through whoever is in charge of the god pack here, and that’s not Jonothon.”
“Okay.”
Patrick’s answer was less agreement and moreI’ll do what I want. Casale seemed to pick up on that, judging by how he rolled his eyes.
“Why are you here, Collins?”
“You know how we found a Santa Muerte idol in the subway? Someone got through the wards on my car to leave me a second one as a present.”
Casale’s eyes blinked wide before narrowing. “They didwhat?”
“I don’t know who did it. There’s no trace signature on the damn thing, but whoever managed it has to be powerful.”
The lie came easily to his lips, as they always did. Patrick wasn’t about to talk about immortals, no matter how entrenched Casale was in the preternatural world. The old gods weren’t believed in much outside what followers they could scrape together these days.
“Do you think it’s Ethan Greene and the Dominion Sect again? Revenge, maybe, for what happened in June?”
Patrick fought back a flinch. Casale’s words hit a little too close to home, something the older man could never know. Patrick’s familial ties to Ethan was a secret very few knew. As far as the public was concerned, Patrick was dead, murdered by his father when he was eight years old, along with his mother and twin sister, Hannah. In reality, he’d lived under a false identity for over twenty years, protected and used by the Greek goddess of the Underworld, and bound by a soul debt he couldn’t escape.
“Who knows?” Patrick said, forcing himself to sound unworried. “I’m leaning toward vampires.”
“Think your criminal informant might be able to shed some light on the issue?”
Lucien was still around, but Patrick hadn’t seen him since summer solstice. He hadn’t disclosed his CI source to anyone after the fact, despite pressure to do so. “I don’t know. Not sure what they’re up to.”
Casale looked like he didn’t believe Patrick, but was too much of a professional to call him out on his bullshit answer. Casale pulled his suit jacket off the coat rack in the corner and shrugged it on. “We’ll discuss the case later when we have more at hand than a dead body. Keep me in the loop, Collins.”
