Hannah felt a bit mean thinking she was faking it. The lady was still very pale. Whatever had shocked, that had been real. Left alone with her, the silence felt awkward, though Hannah had no idea why. “Can I get you some water or something?”
The hand lowered. Yeah, she was pale, but the sugary smile was back. It looked a bit odd with her expression. Once again, Hannah wished she had better people reading skills.
“You’re wondering…” Miz Cookie gave an exaggerated shudder, and indicated Hannah’s ID. “Your name.”
“My…name?” Hannah touched the ID.
“I heard it on the news on the way here. That you’d been killed in an explosion or something. This place, my recent loss…then, well, a dead woman walking toward me—I’m afraid I felt faint.”
Hannah blinked. She wasn’t sure she’d make that connection from a radio news story, but okay…
“I’m sure it’s no surprise, ma’am—” The approach of the driver was salvation in a uniform. With perhaps too much alacrity, Hannah rose and let the driver have her spot. She managed to escape with a mumbled something or other. Was glad to sink down at her own desk, even if Zach was waiting for her.
“What was that about?”
“Science got her husband’s body before she did,” Hannah murmured, wondering what kind of person heard a random name on the radio and remembered it enough to faint when that person turned out to not be dead?
“What’s wrong, baby girl?”
Zach hadn’t called her that, well since a new baby girl had replaced her. Which would make it a very long time. She felt actual tears sting the corners of her eyes.
“I’m not sure, daddy,” she said and sniffed, then gave a laugh that was more wry than amused. They’d be drowning in sentimentality if this went on any longer.
His answering smile was also wry. “Well, much as I hate to admit it, if anyone can figure it out, it’s probably you. You got your mama’s brains.”
“You sure about that? My dad’s a pretty smart guy.”
“Is he?”
He was worried, she realized, puzzled for a moment. Then it hit her. “That was a pretty clever dodge you pulled off back then.”
He grimaced. “Not my finest hour.”
“So we don’t serve and protect family? I can’t see what else you could have done.” If he’d tried to do it legal with Curly there in the wings, and on Zafiro’s payroll… “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been.” Trying to protect Charlie. Not sure who he could trust, so trusting no one. Knowing him, he wouldn’t have shared that dangerous burden with anyone.
“I’ve seen the way you kids have looked at me since…” he stopped, scowling.
“If we have, it’s only from the shock of realizing you’re a real person and not just our dad.” It wasn’t the whole truth, of course. They had been looking at him with questions in their eyes because who they thought he was had gone out of focus. But at the back of it was a certainty that he’d done his best. And perhaps a belated realization he wasn’t perfect. “I know this will come as a shock, but we never really thought you were, you know, perfect.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “When did you grow up?”
“While you were working,” she shot back and grinned. “You might mention it to Alex when he gets here—”
The door slammed back and Alex filled the opening, his gaze both angry and worried.
“Mom’s here,” she muttered, for Zach’s ears only. He coughed and she stood up, totally not as a defensive move, but because she felt like it. “Not even slightly singed.” She fought the urge to edge behind Zach for protection. The other door swung open, and there was Ferris, filling the other half of the opening. The worry and something else in his face, well, it made her catch her breath. Aware of Zach watching, she tried for light, but before she could do more than give him a wavering smile, he surged past Alex and grabbed her, pulling her tightly against his chest. Okay, she hadn’t expected that move. It was very nice, but hard to completely enjoy it with her dad and her brother watching.
“Alex said you were all right, but I couldn’t—didn’t believe him,” he growled in her ear.
At loss for a witty comeback or a clever deflection, Hannah opted to bury her head in his shoulder and take comfort from the frantic thumping of his heart. His hands touched her hair, her shoulders, then clutched her again and it finally, fully hit her that if someone hadn’t—what?—tried to steal her car maybe? She’d have been the one—
It was a good thing he had a tight grip on her, because her knees went weak.
* * *
It had been easy to get his arms around Hannah. Under the laser regard of her dad and her brother, it should have been easy to open a distance. Only it wasn’t. It felt like…retreat. And she had her head buried in his shoulder. He’d believed her gone. Holding her was the only way to prove she wasn’t. To know that she was very much alive.
Would he have preferred this proof to occur in private? Oh yes. So much did he wish that, well, yeah, it was a very deep wishing. Wild ideas of escape passed through his brain. All of which, he suspected, would be ruthlessly squelched by Alex, who had shifted so that he blocked the whole of the exit. Zach, he looked on the enigmatic side there, possibly a bit thoughtful. Who’d have thought the dad would appear more reasonable than the big brother? Appear being the operative word.
“This is kind of awkward,” Hannah whispered.
“Yeah.” The agreement was a breath of sound that he hoped didn’t reach other ears. “Any idea how—”
“—we get out of it? Um, count of three we both step back?”
To his surprise, his hands tightened. “I’ll try.”
The feel of her silent chuckle helped. Her head lifted, her hair brushing against his face as her mouth—not the time for that, Ferris reminded himself—then her eyes came into view. His arms slowly dropped. He saw her lips move in a silent count and at three, he took one step back.
“I’m,” he had to clear the huskiness from his throat to continue, “glad you’re all right.” The formal tone was way too late.
“Thank you.” Her formal response was also too little, too late. Probably be funny later. If he survived to later.
“What the—” Alex began ominously.
Hannah swung around and silenced him with a look that impressed Ferris so much he almost grabbed her again.
“It’s pretty obvious what is going on, Alex, and if you weren’t so primitive about everything, we’d have told you,” Hannah said, with admirable calm. Then spoiled it by flicking a look at her dad.
To Ferris’s surprise, when he spoke it wasn’t about him, them.
“What happened with Hannah’s car?”
“A guy shouldn’t date—”
He had to give Alex credit for persistence. Zach apparently didn’t agree.
“Last time I checked, both of them were of age and living in a free country,” Zach’s tone was so mild Hannah’s eyes widened, then she hurriedly changed it to a “so there” one for Alex. The edges of Zach’s mouth twitched, but he held it together. “And I’m more worried about what happened to her car than who she’s dating.”
There was a bit of “for now” to that, so Ferris didn’t kid himself he was home free—wherever and whatever that meant. He was in deeper than he’d realized and so far it didn’t feel that bad.
“Fine.” Alex gritted out the word. “While I’m still on this case, I’ll need your statement.”
Hannah exchanged what even a guy would call a significant look with Zach. Where had they been when her car was being blown up?
Zach’s face turned grim again. “What caused the explosion?”
“They found the remains of a cheap cell phone,” Ferris said, because for now they were still partners. “Various pieces tested positive for explosive residue at the scene.”
Hannah sat on the edge of her desk. “Someone seriously tried to blow me up?”
“Or it could be a case of someone wiring t
he wrong car.” Alex took two steps away and then turned back. “Can you think of anyone—” he stopped. “Any cases that might have upset the wrong people?”
“Nothing you don’t know about.” She hesitated, then added with obvious reluctance, “Claude St. Cyr had someone following me this morning.”
Alex stared at her. “And you know this how?”
Hannah licked her lips. “I may have…asked him who hired him.”
“And he just told you?” Alex scoffed.
“Well, I may have mentioned my, um, brothers.” She shrugged. “It used to work in high school. He took off like a scared rabbit. Didn’t even have to threaten the other two—”
“Other two?” Alex didn’t yell, but that didn’t make his tone less ominous.
“Dimitri Afoniki didn’t admit one was his—”
“What?” Alex’s tone got louder.
“…but I’m pretty sure he was in on it and he said Guido had sent the other guy. I know it’s hearsay, but I believed him. That’s what ticked me off—” she stopped, looked at each of them in turn and then shrugged again. “Well, it did tick me off. So I chewed the one out and the others went away.”
“If one of them—” Alex ground his teeth together.
“I don’t think it was one of them. I mean, why follow me if you’re just going to blow me up?”
Ferris straightened. “You think…X?” They’d both felt like some unknown someone was involved somehow.
Zach looked thoughtful. “Doesn’t explain why.”
“Who the—” Alex paused to edit out the string of swear words he obviously needed to set loose, but couldn’t in front of his dad, “is X?”
“Well, that is the question, isn’t it?” Hannah’s gaze lost focus.
Dang the girl was cute when she slipped into what he called her geek zone—as if he heard that, Alex’s gaze shot toward Ferris. Mentally whistling, Ferris looked away. Dating. Zach said they were dating. Hannah hadn’t admitted it yet, but her dad had. Was that good?
“Or would that be the equation?” Hannah murmured.
“What—” This time Alex forced it out between gritted teeth. “—are you talking about?”
“X is always the unknown in an equation, isn’t it? At least it always was in my math classes.”
Alex opened his mouth. Caught a glare from Zach. Then closed it again.
* * *
The text came while she was still in the car, still shaken. Had she almost fainted? And what had she given away? Gladys White looked down, her hands clenching at the sight of the text.
Did you see it?
It was true the news was still reporting the doctor as the victim. But she knew the truth, didn’t she?
Appearances can be deceiving. Did I mention how much I dislike failure?
The response took a long time to come. She was sure he did some checking or some thinking. Hopefully both.
I’ll take care of it.
She didn’t bother to respond. She really did dislike failure. First the lawyer, then they wouldn’t give her Harold’s body, now this. She needed something positive. This was a day seriously in need of at least one positive. One couldn’t live forever on the glow of not just fooling Bettino Calvino but removing him from the picture. He’d been so surprised. And then he’d died. She had no idea how lovely it could be to take a life.
Today was supposed to have been, well, not that perfect since she had to farm out the second death. And just because someone had died in the car, well what did she care that? It was just someone who got in her way.
And Dr. Hannah Baker was someone who hadn’t died when they were supposed to. She hadn’t mattered either. She tried to remember why Dunstead thought she was the perfect choice.
She shouldn’t have to deal with details. She was supposed to be the Red Queen. She had minions for the details. She liked that. Minions sounded better than pawns.
Dunstead was supposed to be the minion who got her mob war started by killing Hannah Baker. She frowned, wondering why it had seemed so logical then but was less so now? Something about the Bakers thinking the mob did it? That was it, like that show she saw…she huffed out a sigh. For just a tiny minute, she thought Dunstead had tried to fool her, that wasn’t possible. He wasn’t clever enough for that.
Now Hannah Baker, well, she looked clever, but was she? What if she began to suspect Harold’s death wasn’t quite natural? Or worse, that Gladys knew something about the bombing of her car? She’d practically given her a memo, but it had startled her so. Her face, her face had been familiar before—where had she seen her before? She frowned, but she was too upset, too angry. So angry she wanted to kill Dunstead, Leblanc and yes, Hannah Baker.
Surely she could still make something good from the day? Turn the negative into a positive?
She still needed Dunstead and he’d promised to take care of the doctor. That left Leblanc. Did she need the lawyer? Surely lawyers arranged for their affairs to be taken care of after they died? They were lawyers. That’s what they did. Arrange things. And perhaps the next person would—get the memo—that it wasn’t wise to cross her? Yes, someone new might be more reasonable about that silly third ring.
Now see, already she felt better. Just needed to decide how. Nothing too complicated. In the books, complicated always went wrong. Hadn’t there been something in that one book? Or maybe it was a television show. She forgot which…as she pondered this, she had another happy thought.
If not tomorrow, then surely the day after, the war would erupt into a lovely bloodbath. If Dunstead did his part. Which he’d better. Not that she could let him live. Already she could see it the city erupting with a great big bloodbath, started by her. Can you see me now, Great Grandfather? Can you see how like you I am?
Thirteen
Leblanc had not seen Cinzia Calvino for some time, though he followed her career as he did with all three families, using tracking software. He needed it. Family members arrived and disappeared with no obvious rhyme or reason. Cinzia was a particularly beautiful woman, lush and tempting to those so inclined.
He had never been tempted to stray, though some of the firm’s female clients had tried to tempt him at various times over the years. Not, he knew, because of his personal appearance. Always they were drawn to what he knew, what he could have told them. Knowing was a strange and dangerous power. He’d always believed his wife didn’t know, but he might be wrong about that, he supposed. He’d been drawn to her because of her stillness, because she wasn’t like any of them. Here, at the end, with sharpened clarity, even she seemed changed to him when he called to tell her he would be late. Did she sense he would not be coming home tonight or ever? Would she miss him? Would anyone?
The firm’s affairs would transition almost seamlessly, as they always had. Death, even by misadventure, was a minor annoyance. It was possible that no one within the firm would know what he’d done. On the other side—if there was an other side—he might have some explaining to do to that original client, Zafiro. Almost that thought made him smile. He would like her to know, but that might have to wait for the other side as well.
His thoughts circled the question he did not wish to dwell on. How did he feel about dying? The shadow of it was always there, particularly with his clientele. The law covered everything about death, even in some cases, how to do it. It gave no guidance on how to feel. He’d always liked that about the law. Until…
It was a relief when she arrived and he could focus on business. It was, had always been, his anchor, in the constantly shifting seas as lawyer to the mob.
She had not changed so very much from their last meeting, at a holiday party, if his memory served. There was no question she was a Calvino, not with that dark hair. Her physical attributes were considerable and, he knew, somewhat deceptive. She played the bimbo on occasion, but even Bett had underestimated her. It was not the first time Bett underestimated a woman, of course. Eleanor Calvino had even surprised Leblanc.
“How can I
help you?” Cinzia said, pausing for just the right amount of time before adding, “That is why you called me, is it not?”
“Yes,” he agreed. There was still time to pull back, but he found that revenge was sweeter than loyalty here at the end of his life. His hand on the envelope he’d prepared, he did give her a chance. “You should tell me no. This is no gift.”
“In our world, few things are.” Cinzia leaned back in the deep chair, crossing her legs, her hands resting lightly on the arms. “And curiosity was ever my curse.”
Leblanc pushed the envelope toward her. “Don’t read it here. And if you change your mind, burn it.”
Her sculpted brows arched. “Anything else?”
“I would appreciate your…protection for my family. My wife and my son.”
The lovely head tilted to the side. “I give you my word I’ll do my best.”
Her best was all he could hope for. It might even be enough. “Then I am content.”
“I could offer you the same…”
He shook his head. “Certain…triggers will go into effect when I am…gone. Otherwise—it is better for the firm, for all of you, if I don’t disappear. But this meeting—” he indicated the envelope she held, “that is for me—if you decide to act on it.”
“Then I will do my best for you,” she said, her tone almost regretful.
“Be careful when you leave,” he warned. “Bett was not careful enough.” It was all he could do for her after handing her a live bomb. Still he walked the line, even though it blurred at the approach of death.
Her lashes flickered at this and she nodded, looking thoughtful. She rose in one, fluid motion and picked up her purse from the small table next to the chair. She tucked the envelope inside it, then looked over her shoulder at him. Her lips parted, but she just nodded again and left.
Leblanc watched her go, content he’d picked better than he’d expected. She was smart enough to know that neither goodbye or God speed were appropriate. The devil take you? That was, he supposed, already the plan.
Dead Spaces: The Big Uneasy 2.0 Page 16
