"Still is," Ciro says.
I look at Marco. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
"No distancing?" My father asks.
"No."
My father’s eyebrows furrow. "No reduction in responsibilities?"
Marco shakes his head. "Nothing."
My father places his hands flat on the table as he leans forward. "In the last two years?"
"No."
"Any sign of reduced loyalty?" I question.
"No."
"Any indication he's become less effective in his role?" Ciro fires.
"No."
The room goes quiet. I already know what my father is thinking. It’s the same as what I’ve been thinking throughout all of this. A man whose daughter was murdered doesn't spend two years standing faithfully beside the family responsible. Not if he knows, not if he believes it.
My father leans back in his chair. "What else?"
"Nothing concrete."
My father drums his fingers once against the table, and then looks at me. There’s a question in his eyes, one that is no doubt reflected in my own. What the hell are we missing? Eventually, my father looks back at Marco. "Keep digging."
Marco nods.
"I want the full picture. I want everything you can find on Quinn, Daire, Orla." His eyes settle on the photograph. "And Tony."
Marco inclines his head. "Understood."
The meeting is over. "Ciro. Marco." Both men get to their feet. "Out."
Neither argues. Within seconds, the office door closes behind them, leaving only my father and me in the room.
The moment we’re alone, my father looks at me. "Your behavior toward Quinn doesn't change."
Straight to the point. "You've reached a conclusion already?"
"No." His voice is calm. "I've reached the only conclusion available with the information we currently have."
I lean back in my chair. “Daire gave me information."
"Hearsay."
I don't disagree.
My father folds his hands on the table. "Marco found rumors and questions. Nothing more."
"The Tony Geraghty situation isn't nothing."
