“And?”
I looked toward the stage. Dominic was conferring with the principal trumpet, one hand resting on the score stand.
“She thought it would be exposure,” I said. “A public correction. She gave Henri staging habits and timing. Not because she wanted Dominic dead. Because she wanted the mythmaking interrupted.”
“Did she admit direct operational coordination?”
“Yes.”
“Will she let us know if she’s approached again?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“You think so.”
“Yes. That’s the best I can do.”
He studied me for a second longer. “Did you tell her what we know about the likely mechanics?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I looked at him. “I hate it when you use the word ‘good’ like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve confirmed that a bridge will hold three tons but not the four we need it to.”
“It usually means I’m trying not to say something worse.”
“Such as?”
“That you shouldn’t have gone in there alone.”
I crossed my arms. “I was not in danger from Bridget Marchand.”
“She isn’t the only danger in that situation.”
I was too tired to ask him to explain. Instead, I said, “She was more broken than hostile.”
“And you?”
I almost gave him an easy answer, but I was honest instead. “Ask me later.”
He nodded once and didn’t pressure me with more questions. His steadiness prevailed.
Rehearsal resumed. Dominic took them through the last movement twice without interruption. Bridget played flawlessly. The choir director wiped sweat from the back of her neck with a folded tissue. A horn player cracked the top note of a phrase and swore loudly enough that most of the musicians heard it. Dominic ignored the profanity and corrected the breath.
By the time we left, Eamon already had the SUV idling at the curb. Dominic got in first. Thiago slid into the far side of the third row and left me the seat beside him.
The doors shut. The air conditioning pushed against my face.
For the first minute of the drive, no one spoke. Thiago sat angled slightly toward the center aisle, one forearm resting on his thigh, with his eyes moving from the side mirror to the rear glass to Dominic’s reflection and back again.
I watched him instead of the city.
He had a quality I had first mistaken for detachment. It wasn’t that. Detachment withdraws. Thiago never withdrew. He remained fully present in the room. His steadiness wasn’t emptiness. It was discipline practiced long enough to look natural.
