Page 105

"Well?" I straighten up and turn.

Rafe stays in the doorway with his coat still on, his phone in one hand, and keeps his voice down. "The ear. We've got a match."

"Whose?"

"Ours." He doesn't soften it. "Greg. He did the late runs to the crematorium, handled odd errands. He had a key to the side door, came and went at all hours, nobody thought twice about it. He went quiet on Tuesday and we figured he was drinking again." He paused. “They used him to get in, Laszlo, then they cut him up and kept the ear. The rest of him came back this afternoon through our florist on Ninth. Boxed up with some supplies we ordered."

The sound in the room dies. I stop hearing Rafe talking, the machines running. There's just the tray in front of me and my own heartbeat, even and steady when it should be pounding. This is exactly how I felt the day I killed Charles. My body went calm and my hands moved on their own. By the time I could hear the room again, he was dead.

I straighten the tray once more, but the tools rattle as I move my hand. Rafe sees it, and I'm glad he doesn't say anything.

"They turned one of my own men," I say. "They left their little present on my wife's pillow, then chopped him up and sent him back to me. Honestly, if they’d done this to any of the other families, I’d shake their hands. Devious…" I pick the tray straight again. "Greg has worked for me for six years and never once gave me trouble. A man like that doesn't sell you out for a bit of extra cash. Somebody had a real hold on him. I want to know who."

Rafe shifts his weight to the side, and that tells me I won't like the answer.

"He was drowning in debt at the Perrault card rooms in Jersey," he says. "They basically owned him. And the man who first brought him there eight months ago, the one who told them Greg was good for the money…" His expression hardens. "It was your brother-in-law. It was Julien."

Well. That's unexpected. And worrying.

Julien. Manon's brother, and my own brother-in-law, God help me. The same Julien who had to stay away after all the problems he’s caused. Thanks to his shenanigans with Nicko, I got my wife, but that’s beside the point. Julien should be rotting in a cell somewhere because his behavior is self-serving. He doesn’t even care about his own family. But instead he is out and about, causing mayhem. Handing my enemies a key into my house.

"Find him and bring him in."

"Two steps ahead. He was easy to track down. He’s at his family’s lake house close by. I was just waiting for your go ahead."

"Then go get him."

Within a couple of hours, he’s here. Rafe and Tomek have him by each arm, and he's fighting them with every ounce of energy he’s got. His shirt's rumpled, half unbuttoned, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. When he sees the man tied to my chair, his eyes widen in terror but he quickly hides it. Good, he should be afraid.

"Sit down."

"I'll stand." His voice comes out steady enough, but his hands give him away. He shoves them into his pockets, but there’s nothing casual about that gesture.

"You introduced a man called Greg to the Perrault card rooms."

"I play cards. I introduce people. Why, is that a problem now?"

"Greg gave the key to my house to the people who came in and left one of my men’s ears next to my bed. Where my wife sleeps. My wife, your sister. Then they killed that man."

The performance drops. For a flash moment I see the real Julien, who is twenty-six years old and in way over his head. Then the anger comes—better anger than fear. He starts to pace, and I let him for a while.

"That's got nothing to do with me. I’m not going to hurt my sister!"

"Sit down, Julien."

"That's my sister, and I'm the reason she's stuck with you in the first place, so don't stand there and act like I don't care what happens to her."

"I didn't say you don't care. I said you did something stupid that put her in danger. Those aren't the same thing, and you know the difference."

He stops pacing, and he looks like he’s swallowed a metal beam that’s tearing him up inside.

"You brought Greg to those tables. Isn’t he married to one of your cousins? That’s complicated but it makes sense that you’re acquainted… anyway, you told them he was good for the money. He wasn't. He lost more than he could cover, and the people who run those rooms don't write off debts. They collect in other ways." I keep my voice flat. "They found out he had a key to my house and they used him. He let them in. Now he's dead, and my wife had to lay eyes on that thing on her nightstand. It all started because you wanted someone to play cards with."

He stares at me in disbelief. Or is it guilt?

"You didn't plan any of this. I know that. You're not smart enough to plan it, are you?" I know this is not a kind thing to say, but it’s the truth and tonight, my patience is running thin. "You were just reckless. You dragged a man with a gambling problem into a place run by people who eat men like Greg for breakfast, and you never once thought about what they might want from him. You just played your hand and went home."

"I didn't know. I didn't know any of that was going to happen."