The 8th Circle

by Sarah Cain

  Danny stood. “I’ve had my bad nights, yes.”

  “I’ve always admired your column. You’ve taken on some of our sacred cows. It’s good for the city.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Danny cleared his throat and tried to remember if he had written anything particularly unflattering about Bartlett Scott. He thought not; the old man seemed to have been a genuine force for good in the city.

  “I’ve often thought of you. I remember the funeral for your wife and boy. So sad. Terribly sad. I thought of Blake then. ‘Some are born to endless night.’ Yes, I thought of that line then. It’s hard to lose a child.” He caught Danny’s arm again. “I haven’t always agreed with you, but I always thought you were a good man.” He sighed. “‘Endless night.’ Would you agree, Mr. Ryan? I believe we share that in our own way.”

  Melissa Scott was on her feet. She gently pried her father’s fingers off Danny’s arm and then settled the old man. “Dad, please. I’m sure Mr. Ryan has enough to worry about right now.” Her face looked pinched, and Danny realized that she was concerned with what he’d write about her father. He turned away but felt her touch his hand.

  “Don’t mind Dad,” she said. “He’s not himself these days. He gets confused. I hope you’ll try to remember him as he was. He hasn’t been the same since Mother passed away.”

  Who wanted to write that Bartlett Scott was losing his mind? Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he saw something true. Danny’s parade of sleepless nights hadn’t started with Conor and Beth’s accident. Some are born to endless night. Now it would be one more thing that would rattle through his mind. Danny’s flesh was crawling. Christ, this party had become a circus of the macabre. He glanced back at Bartlett Scott. Something bothered him: The old man’s serene expression? Or maybe it was those almost colorless blue eyes. They reminded him of something.

  Melissa Scott was watching him expectantly, and he nodded. “I’m sure your father’s exhausted. It’s been a very upsetting evening for everyone.”

  She gave him a chilly smile. “Indeed. I hoped you’d understand.”

  *

  Danny watched the cop who guarded the door to the ballroom and wondered if the police intended to interview everyone or hold every person prisoner until someone confessed out of boredom. They’d taken Andy away in the ambulance with Linda. When Danny asked the cop by the door where they had taken her, he just shook his head. It wasn’t a surprise. Danny didn’t expect police cooperation, not with a hostile crowd circling.

  Where had they taken Kate? What hell was she going through? He tried texting her but got no reply. He needed to find her, but he was stuck in this room for now.

  Senator and Mrs. Harlan sat near the door, and Danny didn’t understand why the senator hadn’t made a discreet phone call to get their asses out of there. Then again, why make a scene? If Bartlett Scott could wait it out, why not Robert Harlan? After all they were comfortably enjoying their coffee, dessert, and after-dinner cocktails on Andy’s tab.

  The senator waved to him as if they were friends. Robert Harlan smiled when Danny reached the table, but his eyes remained cold. Mrs. Harlan’s lips twitched, and he thought she might spit at him. Danny leaned over and kissed her cheek just like a dutiful ex-son-in-law. Her hand clamped down over his, and her long, red nails dug into his flesh, but he ignored the quick stab of pain and said, “Awful night, isn’t it? You holding up, Patsy?”

  He called her that because he could get away with it, but he still got a rush when he saw the twin flashes of fury in her eyes. She made no effort to disguise her feelings. He was the usurper who had stolen her daughter. To him, she was an old fraud with infinite amusement value. If she had possessed a sense of humor, they might have gotten along. He knew she’d taken etiquette and speech classes so she could learn to fit in the Washington social scene and hired a tutor to help her polish up on history and literature. Patsy Parker, farm girl and former Miss Georgia Peach, always maintained herself with the rigid discipline of a drill sergeant. He’d heard the senator dismiss her more than once with a quick “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand” put-down, and he’d watched her face tighten into an obedient smile. Danny had never seen her relax or drop her facade, and he pitied her, even though he knew that if given half a chance, she would have strung him up and gutted him along with one of her father’s prize sows. Some people lived with stress. Patsy was a virtual pressure cooker.

  “It was most unfortunate that our poor Kate stumbled across the crime scene,” the senator said.

  Danny looked at him for a moment. “Maybe it saved Linda’s life.” Linda couldn’t die. Not the Linda who brought him containers of chicken soup and thick corned beef sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper when he first started at the paper. Not his Linda. Christ, he needed to hold it together. “She’s not dead.”

  The senator shook his head. “It’s my understanding that Linda’s throat was cut. Of course, Linda and Andy will be in my prayers.”

  “I’m sure that’ll be a comfort to them.” Danny knew the sarcasm sounded hollow.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.” The senator smiled as if Danny had told him Christ had come down for a chat. “God will sustain Andy in his hour of need just as he sustained you through yours. That’s how you came to accept that Beth and Conor moved on to a better place. It was God’s will. No matter how difficult.”

  Danny wanted to tell the senator to go fuck himself, but the surge welled up. He forced it back. The senator’s eyes turned black with pure venom. The bastard knew he’d scored a direct hit.

  “I don’t accept anything.”

  “Accidents can be very upsetting.”

  “This wasn’t an accident.” Danny said.

  The senator’s eyes grew darker. “No, of course. This was quite deliberate, wasn’t it?”

  “What the hell is taking so long?” A tall man with flowing chestnut hair swept across the room to stand with them, and Danny recognized him at once. Bruce Delhomme. Philadelphia’s hottest restaurateur. Party boy. Andy’s asshole buddy. He bristled with the kind of self-important impatience that made Danny hope he was the last on the interview list.

  “Calm yourself,” the senator said in the no-nonsense voice a parent would use on a petulant child. Delhomme pouted and folded his arms. Danny waited for him to stamp his foot.

  The door opened, and John Novell appeared. He said something to the cop and then motioned to Danny. When Danny headed toward him, Delhomme also approached the door.

  Novell looked at him. “May I help you, sir?”

  Delhomme tossed his hair. He could’ve been in a shampoo commercial. “We’ve been held captive here for almost an hour! I demand to know what’s taking so long!”

  “The detectives in charge will be in soon to interview you. It won’t be much longer, sir.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Novell waited.

  “I’m Bruce Delhomme, goddammit! I don’t have to take this crap!”

  “Now, Bruce.” Robert Harlan stepped forward and laid a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I’m sure the police are doing everything they can. Perhaps, you’ll put in a good word for us, Daniel?”

  Danny would have said, “In a cold day in hell,” but Novell’s face stopped him. It twisted like someone yanked his muscles with a wire.

  “Senator Harlan,” Novell said.

  “Agent Novell, isn’t it?” Robert Harlan’s voice oozed like syrup. “Miss Reid is a member of my staff. My wife and I would consider it a personal favor if we could speak with her.”

  Novell spun away. “If you’ll excuse us.” He jerked his head at Danny and strode out the door.

  Danny followed Novell into the hall. “So what’s with you and Senator Charm?”

  Novell grunted.

  “Come on, it’ll keep me from asking you what you’re doing here. Did you tail me?”

  Novell turned so fast he caught Danny off guard. He backed him up against the wall and leaned into him until there were mere inches bet
ween their faces. Danny could smell the scotch under Novell’s breath mints, and for a moment he thought Novell might throttle him.

  “Do you give a shit about anyone? A woman had her throat cut tonight. Did that register with you?”

  Danny’s mouth dropped open. Did Novell have a clue? He took a breath. Fuck Novell. He could think what he wanted.

  “So about you and Big Bob?”

  Novell’s face turned scarlet. “That bastard is the one who screamed for an investigation into the Inferno. Then he interfered from day one, and when the operation collapsed, he turned around and said it was our fault. Our agents got sloppy. The bureau fucked up. Sanctimonious prick. As far as I’m concerned—” Novell clamped his teeth together and bit off his words.

  Danny stared at him. He wanted to ask Novell more about the operation, but somehow this didn’t seem like the time.

  “Jesus, Novell. Harlan’s not my choice for man of the year either. What are you doing here anyway? The Philly PD doesn’t call in outsiders on this sort of thing. Particularly not suburban cops.”

  Novell pointed to an alcove. “Wait there. I’m getting Kate before Harlan gets a chance to talk to her. I’ve persuaded the Philly PD that you’re part of my investigation. But you’re sick. You get migraines. So keep your mouth shut and look sick. You got someplace to stay tonight?”

  Danny handed him the key card. “Yeah, here.”

  Novell took it, studied it for a minute, and then put it in his pocket.

  “Anyone know you’re planning to stay?”

  “Just Andy and Linda.”

  “You’re valet parked?”

  “Yeah, it’s in with the key card, but what—”

  “Can it, Ryan. I’m not in the mood.” Novell stalked off, leaving Danny to wonder what the hell was going on.

  39

  Lights exploded in Danny’s skull just after five. He rolled out of bed, fumbled for his tuxedo jacket in the dark, and staggered into the bathroom, Imitrex in hand. Lights popped around him like fireworks. Orange. Red. White. They pulsed and ran together as the ominous tightening in his right eye socket began.

  His hands shook when he jabbed the needle into his thigh. He slumped down on the toilet and pressed his palms against his forehead. When the light show in his head began to diminish, he filled the basin with water and plunged his face into it.

  Danny could almost feel hands on his back the moment his face hit the icy water, and he jerked his head from the basin with a shudder and combed his fingers through his hair.

  Once just for fun, Kevin and Junior had pissed in the toilet and held his head in it just to see how long he could stand it. The brawl had been life as usual with the Ryan boys, until they had broken his mother’s Waterford rose bowl. Even Junior had been scared that night when the old man had come home stinking drunk. Already furious.

  Funny the things he remembered: the darkness of the closet where he had hidden, his father’s footsteps in the hall, his fear that reeked of mothballs.

  Danny walked back into the bedroom where Kate still slept. Last night, after Kate asked to stay with Danny, Novell had escorted them to this suite. She’d removed her gown, wrapped herself in the complimentary terry cloth robe, and curled into a white ball beneath the covers. Danny had offered to sleep on the sofa, but she’d said, “Don’t leave.”

  He didn’t know what comfort she took from his presence twenty-some inches away in that king-size bed. In the darkness, they might as well have been twenty miles apart.

  Kate slept with her hands balled into fists, as if sleep itself was a battle. Danny wanted to slip in beside her and take her in his arms, but he figured he’d get a fist in the eye. He smoothed the covers around her and kissed the top of her head.

  He wandered to the outer room of the suite. A gift basket sat on the coffee table, and he fingered the cellophane. The gift card read, “From Linda and Andy, Welcome back.” Danny crushed the card in his hand when the grief swept over him.

  The first time he’d met Linda, she wore a black satin gown and had been searching for Andy. Danny had fallen asleep at his computer terminal after completing his last obit, his cheek resting in a small puddle of drool.

  “I’m thinking of cheating on my husband tonight.” At the sound of her voice so close to his ear, he’d snapped up, almost connecting with her chin. She’d surveyed him with a knowing smile and then reached into her evening bag to offer him a tissue. “I hope you finished whatever you were writing.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He’d scrubbed at his cheek.

  “Does my husband keep you chained here at night?”

  “No, ma’am. I—”

  “That’s good to know. And you find your employment here satisfactory?”

  Danny had nodded, trying to think of something to say. He’d realized this was Andy’s wife because Andy kept a picture of her on his desk and spoke of her with great affection.

  “Perhaps you’d like to help me cheat on my husband. If I’m not mistaken, he’s hiding out somewhere around here with Miss Philly Cheesesteak or something like that. So here we are, you and I. Are you the kind of man who’s willing to help a lady in need?”

  Danny had felt like a train was bearing down on him. No matter what he’d said, he’d be flattened, but he’d croaked, “I think you’d be way out of my league, but I’d be happy to see you home.”

  She’d said nothing for a moment, then leaned close and touched his cheek. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  He hadn’t helped her cheat on Andy, though she did give him a ride back to his dorm in her limo. And she’d begun checking in on him, the first time with a box of cookies from Termini’s. Later she sent more substantive food: corned beef sandwiches and chicken soup. Then came the clothes: cashmere sweaters, a leather jacket because she’d thought he looked cold, a Burberry scarf. He’d try to refuse; she wouldn’t hear of it.

  “My son won’t let me be a good mother,” she’d said once. “Indulge me.”

  He’d always thought Michael would resent him, but Michael had been philosophic. He’d knocked back a double shot of tequila and said, “They didn’t like the son they got, so they got themselves a new one. You should change your name to Jacob. What the hell, it gets them off my back. Just wait ’til Mother Wonderful is telling you how to live your life.”

  Linda had never told him how to live his life, though she’d stood by him through enough disasters. But something had been wrong with Linda last night. Linda and Andy. Something had been wrong since Michael died. It was like Michael’s death opened the door to some alternate universe where everything looked the same but wasn’t.

  How could Beth and Conor’s crash have been anything but an accident? Danny tried to remember the accident report. Beth had lost control of the Jeep. Black ice, the state troopers had said.

  Not all accidents are accidents.

  That voice came back to him, low and hoarse and evil. And along with it came the senator.

  This was quite deliberate, wasn’t it?

  So many accidents. Beth and Conor. Michael. Teddy Powell. Too many. It didn’t make sense. Maybe nothing made sense anymore.

  And why did Andy have to talk to him about Beth? Why did he even care about her? Danny’s head sunk toward his chest. It felt so heavy. Too heavy to hold up. If he could just sleep for an hour or two more, he’d be able to function. The hangover didn’t help.

  Something he needed to remember. It seemed important, but his mind was too unfocused. Where had he seen those eyes?

  *

  “Hey.”

  A hand brushed down Danny’s cheek to linger on his neck. He opened his eyes. Kate leaned over him, rested her hands on his shoulders. Her hair hung in a damp tangle, and she still wore the terry cloth robe. She smelled of lavender and vanilla.

  “You look like hell,” she said.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She bowed her head, but not before he saw tears fill her eyes.

  “What’s the matter, Kate?”
r />   “I had a bad dream.”

  He drew her into his lap and tried to ignore the way the robe slipped off her shoulder, the way she fit against him. He put his face against her hair.

  “Don’t say anything.” She inched closer until their mouths almost touched. “I want you to make the ghosts disappear for me, Danny. And I can do that for you. We can do that much, can’t we?”

  He wanted to tell her that ghosts never went away, that you could never close the door to them and keep it closed. Even soft spirits like Conor haunted you forever. Instead, he let his fingers slide under the fabric of her robe.

  “We can try, Kate.” He heard the lie in his voice and hoped she didn’t. “We can try.”

  40

  Novell felt like an old shoe—worn out and broken down. He trudged through the elegant lobby of the Four Seasons and punched the elevator button.

  He’d already started the day with a fight over his lack of regard for proper police procedure. The captain didn’t appreciate the shark sense that had made him tail Ryan. The Philly PD brass didn’t find his impersonation of an FBI agent amusing either, though Novell knew he did a damn good job of it.

  Everything was fucked up.

  Linda Cohen remained in intensive care, and Novell suspected Ryan was next on the hit list.

  No doubt Ryan would still want to keep digging, and Novell wanted him in protective custody today. The trick was to get Ryan to agree. The brother would help. Novell was sure of that, if he could get them together. But it was not a promising way to start Sunday morning.

  His phone vibrated. The Philly PD. Again. Novell slid it back into his pocket. He’d deal with them later.

  He reached the door and gave a quick knock. No answer. Fuck ’em. It was almost eleven. They need to get moving.