His eyes were dark, his face grim. I could tell nothing I said made any difference. I had to lift some of this from him.
“You told me about it, and I told you not to go.”
“It’s not on you,” he said.
“Yes, it is. I’m the Head of the House.”
“She was my responsibility.”
“No. She stopped being your responsibility when you finished the case. Leon, if I could rewind yesterday, knowing what I know now, I still wouldn’t have let you go. Not alone. If you had gone, now Audrey would be dead, you would likely be dead, and we would be planning your funeral. I can’t do that, Leon. I can’t bury you. I just can’t.”
His face remained grim.
I wished I could do something, anything, to make him feel better and to make Audrey not be dead. But life didn’t offer do-overs.
“We’ll make them pay,” I promised.
His gaze focused. A cold expression hardened his face.
“What was their plan?” Leon said, his voice icy. “Lure me there, stage a murder-suicide?”
“If I were doing it? I’d kill her and shoot you but make sure you survived.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“If you died, we would be gunning for revenge. Grief hardens you. It makes you into a determined opponent. What would you do if I was killed?”
“I’d turn the city inside out.”
“Exactly. Our whole family would be foaming at the mouth to find your killer. But if you were still clinging to life, most of our energy would go toward clearing you and making sure you recovered. We would be angry, sure, but mostly we would be scared that we might lose you. It’s not just the frame-up, it’s the uncertainty. Will you live? If you live, will you be charged with killing Audrey? Are you in a coma, unable to refute the charges but tainted by murder? If you’re hovering between life and death, the authorities can’t charge you, they can’t clear you, and meanwhile House Baylor is smeared with the scandal. A PI who murders a celebrity YouTube star. Investigating Felix’s murder on top of that would be the last thing on my mind.”
He stared at me. “So, in this scenario, I’m a total screwup who murdered an innocent girl, tried to take the coward’s way out, and fucked it up? Jesus, I thought I was dark.”
That was a little splash of life. I would take it. “You need to up your game.”
I hugged him. Leon stiffened, then hugged me back. For a long moment neither of us spoke and then I took a step back.
“Have you told anyone about Audrey?”
He frowned.
“She never mentioned you by name in any of her videos. There is nothing on any of the social networks tying you together.” Bern had checked on that because Sabrian asked him to. “Who would know about it?”
“Albert,” he said.
“Albert Ravenscroft?”
Leon nodded.
“Why?”
My cousin sighed. “You know how I run in Freshmeadow Park in the morning? He started running with me three weeks ago.”
“He did?” That was news to me.
“Yeah. He talks.” Leon said it as if it explained everything.
“About what?”
“About everything. Sports. Family business. Cars. It always comes back to what a good match he would make for you. And wouldn’t it be cool if we could be buddies and in-laws. And if I could talk to you about him.”
“Let me guess, he has many fine qualities that women find attractive?”
“So many,” Leon said.
No doubt.
“One morning Audrey called, and he heard me tell her to stop. He said it was kind of harsh, so I told him about her. I know it’s against policy, but I felt it was a good teachable moment.”
“How did he take it?”
“He didn’t get it,” Leon said. “I don’t understand this guy. He seems smart. I made parallels between Audrey and me and him and you. It totally flew over his head.”
I rubbed my face. I would have to speak to Albert.
“You’re not backing off from the Pit?” Leon asked.
“No.”
“Good.” Leon bared his teeth. “I sent Marat’s background to you.”
“Thank you.”
“I suppose you want me to sit on my hands at home?”
I did but telling Leon that virtually guaranteed that he would do the opposite, especially if I mentioned that Arkan’s people would target him. He wanted that confrontation. Instead I went for Mom’s approach.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Leon. You know the situation. Right now, Houston PD must get a warrant to talk to you. The moment you leave, they’re free to approach you on the street. People are free to record this encounter, which will almost certainly devolve into a confrontation. People can post it on Herald, share it on Snapchat, and speculate about why the police are talking to you and then someone will mention Audrey’s name . . .”
Leon held up his hand. “You made your point. I will stay here and clear the Hoskins case.”
“Thank you.”
Leon locked his teeth. Muscles stood out on his jaw. He held up one finger. “One condition.”
“Yes?”
“When we find who did this to Audrey, I’ll kill them.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Chapter 7
At ten minutes before nine, I went to get Alessandro. I stopped by the guard booth first.
“Hi, Brittney.”
A clipped female voice responded, “Hello, Ms. Baylor.”
“Has he moved?”
“Prime Sagredo arrived at 06:54, rolled down his window at 07:12, answered a phone call at 07:54, rolled up his window and started the vehicle at 08:10, turned the vehicle off at 08:20, then started the vehicle again at 08:40 and turned it off at 08:50.”
Texas heat was no joke. It was already approaching ninety and the humidity only made it worse. Without AC he would be broiling in that car.
“Thank you, Brittney.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
I walked toward the Spider. I could see Alessandro through the windshield. He’d shaved. His hair was perfectly tousled. He wore a white shirt he’d left open at the collar. We would be treated to Prime Sagredo this morning.
He opened his door and got out of the car. He wore sand-colored trousers with expensive Italian loafers. A BVLGARI watch glinted on his wrist, about fifteen grand. The perfect picture of a House scion. He had money and he had taste, and he had to take care of business, but he wasn’t his father, so he saw no reason to be uptight about it. A year ago, before I got to know him, I would have mistaken it for his natural style, but now I knew better. Everything he wore and the way he wore it was precisely calculated. A spoiled heir of a prominent European House living on the cusp of fashion wouldn’t think to dress down to visit a building site and so Alessandro pretended to have no common sense.
I had traded my skirt and pumps for a more sensible beige pants, boots, and a blue T-shirt. To say we didn’t match would be an understatement. Alessandro looked like a wealthy spoiled heir to some corporation who came to bother his personal secretary on her day off just before she left to go hiking.
“Arkan’s person made their move,” I told him.
“Tell me.”
I did.
“True to form,” he said. His voice had the steady calm of a man who had expected the worst and was proven right. He wouldn’t waste time and energy being angry about it. He would simply kill everyone responsible, and I had no problem with that.
Of all the ways they could attack us, I would’ve never anticipated Audrey. We barely knew her. She was a complete innocent in this. They murdered a girl just for a chance to distract me. When I came face-to-face with her killers, I would eliminate them. It wouldn’t make me happy. Killing was a monstrous thing but sometimes it had to be done. I would kill for the sake of my family without any hesitation and I would kill for Audrey, so no other Audrey would die like her again.
An o
utraged honk tore through the silence behind us. We both turned. A green Mini Cooper sped up the road and slid to a dramatic stop before the security booth. The driver’s window rolled down, and Runa Etterson stuck her red-haired head out of it.
“Catalina! Step away from the dickhead!”
A strangled sound came from the booth’s speakers. It sounded suspiciously like laughter.
“I thought the Etterson matter was settled,” Alessandro murmured.
“It was.”
“Then what is she doing here?”
“She probably heard about Leon and came for moral support. She’s my best friend.”
Runa passed the sniff test and was marching toward us, her car abandoned. Her face promised war. I had kept things from my family, because I didn’t want them to worry, but I told Runa everything.
“You should run,” I told Alessandro. “You’re vastly outnumbered. It’s not too late to give up and go home.”
“You! Don’t you walk away. I have things to say to you.” Runa caught up with us. “Catalina, have you lost your mind?”
Probably. “How did you even know he was here?”
“Intuition,” she said and turned bright red.
Bern. Had to be.
Runa stared at Alessandro. “You saved my brother. I owe you a debt. If you need a favor, I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“Catalina is my best friend. I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t get any ideas. She’s too good for you.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“If you hurt her again, I’ll find you and then I’ll make you wish you were dead.”
“Okay.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her toward the front door. “Thank you for your input, Prime Etterson.”
“Dead!” Runa called out over her shoulder.
Chapter 8
Alessandro stared at Rhino. His eyebrows came together.
“Why don’t we just take my car?”
“Because we’re going to the Pit, which means we have to navigate the deserted and possibly flooded area with many hazards.”
“My car is fast and maneuverable.”
I raised my hand and held my thumb and index finger an inch apart. “And it sits this low to the ground.”
“Can you even reach the speed limit in this monstrosity?”
“Yes.”
He pondered the blocky SUV. The corners of his mouth curled a little. “What if something chases us and we have to jump a hole in the bridge?”
“If something chases us, I’ll reverse, ram them, and then drive back and forth over their broken body until it’s flat as a pancake.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“If you want to jump bridges, you can follow me in your car, but I’m taking this one. You want to roll up to the Pit Reclamation HQ in your Spider because it’s consistent with your character of House scion. It would make Marat think less of you, which is to your advantage. I empathize. Yesterday I wanted to appear incompetent and vulnerable and you told them that my powers gave you pause. We are taking Rhino.”
He raised his hands. “Fine.”
“Thank you so much for your cooperation.”
“You’re welcome.”
He strode to his car and popped the trunk. He dug in it and came out with an assault rifle.
“What is that?”
“This is an M4 carbine. It’s air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed, and it fires 5.56 rounds.”
“I know what an M4 carbine is. What is that attached to it?”
Alessandro made a show of looking at the rifle. “Oh that.”
“Is that an M320 grenade launcher?”
“It appears to be.”
“Just out of curiosity, do you have a SAW stashed somewhere in that tiny car?”
“I don’t remember.” He leaned toward me, his amber eyes speculative. “Would you like to crawl around in there with me and look for one?”
Asking him things was clearly a mistake.
I opened the hatchback and he loaded the M4 into it. Two portable pistol cases followed. Then another case, which he stacked on top of the pistol ones.
“What’s in there?”
“Knives.”
I pulled my sword case open. Two feet high and four feet long, it unfolded like a toolbox, with the top shelf holding my favorite blades, the tactical gladius, the rapier, and a tactical machete. The bottom shelf offered a variety of knives in every shape and size.
“Extras,” I told him.
“Nice,” he said.
Not as nice as Linus’ blade, which I had already loaded into the console.
I shut the hatchback, climbed into the driver’s seat, while he got in next to me, and we were off.
Alessandro relaxed in the seat, long legs stretched out, broad shoulders resting against the back. Sunlight filtered through the window, playing on his hair. His face, halfway shaded, was heartbreaking. I could lift my phone and take a burst of twenty pictures and every single one would be a masterpiece.
A faint whiff of sandalwood mixed with vanilla and a hint of citrus floated through the car. The Alessandro scent. He’d smelled this way the day he kissed me, and I nearly stripped naked for him in the bathroom of the Wortham Theater. He’d smelled this way too when I came to tell him I was in love with him and found him packing.
I wanted to know what happened between him and Arkan. Whatever it was had shaken him to the core. It gnawed at me. I wanted to know.
If I asked him about it, he would tell me. It had to be awful, because nothing short of awful caused that kind of seismic shift in a person. He would tell me, and then I would know, and I would want to make him feel better. I would care. I couldn’t afford to care.
I turned right on Kempwood Drive. We could have taken Hempstead, but it was closed due to roadwork. There were three certainties in Houston: death, taxes, and never-ending roadwork. The joke was on me. The moment we merged onto the Sam Houston Tollway, the traffic ground to a halt. Sirens wailed ahead. We would be here awhile.
The hint of sandalwood and vanilla drifted to me. I needed a distraction.
I thought back to Augustine’s case summary. I had read it last night and forwarded it to Alessandro before passing out.
The MII investigators were worth their price. In the brief time they had the case, they put together a timeline of Felix’s movements, interviewed the other four Primes and some of their staff, and obtained the preliminary coroner’s report.
Felix died on Friday, July 15th. That day he’d dropped off his children at their private school and arrived at his office at Morton Enterprises at 8:15 a.m., the same as he did every morning. He spent three hours at the office, placing several phone calls to the engineering firm involved with the reclamation project. He ate lunch at his desk—a gyro with chips from a place around the corner—worked some more after lunch, and at 2:17 p.m. exited the building. At 3:00 p.m., he was seen at the America Tower, where he’d bumped into Linus.
He left the America Tower by 3:30 p.m. and went back to the office. According to his secretary and his calendar, he had no plans for the evening and was supposed to go home to have dinner with his family. Instead, at 5:00 p.m., he called his housekeeper and told her that he had a change of plans and not to wait for him for dinner, then he left the office.
Twenty-five minutes later, an unknown person used the private after-hours code on the gate inside the Pit. The two guards swore nobody went in before Felix and the security feed confirmed their statement, so this person had to have arrived to the island by boat or some other means. Shortly after, the security booth logged Felix driving in. The inner gate code was used again at 5:49 p.m., presumably by Felix. That was his last sign of life.
It killed me that nobody thought to check on him, but Felix was a Prime and he had previously stayed at the site overnight when the occasion called for it. Because he’d called his housekeeper, his children assumed that he was working late. In the morning, Fe
lix’s daughter tried to reach him, and when he still didn’t answer, she contacted her grandfather, who called security at the site. They began a systematic search and found him hanging off the cable, his body butchered.
He’d gone to the site to meet with someone. His cell phone was recovered and showed no phone calls or texts, so the arrangements for the meeting had to have been made in person, during his trip to the Assembly.
The MII investigators had come to the same conclusion, but the inner workings of the Texas Assembly were kept private. Whatever happened between the gleaming white walls of the America Tower stayed there. None of the other four Primes had visited the Assembly in person that day, but their family members had attended: Tatyana’s brother, Cheryl’s uncle, Marat’s brother, and Stephen’s father. Any of them could’ve passed on a message to Felix. Meet me in the Pit. It’s important. Come alone.
Each of the four living board members had an alibi. Stephen Jiang’s appeared to be the most solid. He was on a conference call with a firm in Tokyo, and according to MII’s summary, the conversation was too detailed for anyone to impersonate him. Marat was having dinner with his family, who would no doubt lie for him if he asked. Cheryl was also having dinner at a restaurant with a friend, who was yet to be identified. Tatyana’s alibi was the shakiest of the four. Supposedly she was at her office, but MII caught her vehicle leaving the parking lot of the Pierce Building in the middle of the day and didn’t show her coming back.
Felix’s legs were burned to a proverbial crisp. Tatyana could do it in seconds. But why?
I glanced away from the road and caught Alessandro looking at me. Something wistful and sad passed through his eyes, then the ice shutters crashed down, and the Artisan looked back at me.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“I don’t understand the burned legs.”
“Catalina, have you noticed that every time we meet, we end up discussing dead people?”
“Apparently that’s the nature of our relationship.”
A slow smile curved his lips.
“You don’t have to be so happy about it,” I told him.
Emerald Blaze Page 12
