Page 92 of Concealed in Death

Sebastian went to the bar, came back with a bottle. “I admire your wife,” he began.

“As do I.”

“She’s dedicated and ferocious, for all the right reasons. She’ll find who did this.”

“She won’t stop until she does.”

“It’s an interesting life the two of you’ve made.”

“I could say the same of yours.”

“It’s one that suits me. I think you understand the perspective of a certain fluidity of borders others, such as your lieutenant, must see as firm demarcations.”

“I understand adjusting borders when needs must.”

Sebastian looked down at his beer a moment, then just nodded to himself. “They have nowhere to go. Most will say they have to go into the system—the system will tend to them. It was created to tend to them. But we know, you and I and your lieutenant, that far too often the system fails. It fails, even with the dedication of ferocity of those who’ve sworn to protect, who do everything they can to fulfill that duty, it fails. When it does, the wounded, abused, and innocent among us suffer.”

“I don’t disagree. Neither would the lieutenant on the failure of the system, and the cost when it does. So she’ll fight within the system to protect. And when she can’t protect to work—ferociously—to see that justice is served for those who suffered.”

“Even if it means dealing with me.”

“Even that. Some of them, it seems, were yours for a time. All of them are hers now. They’ll always be hers now.”

She walked back in, eyes flat, stride brisk. And held out her PPC. “Iris Kirkwood.”

Sebastian looked at the screen, at the image of the girl with straight, sandy blond hair, wide brown eyes, and lips curved in a small, sweet smile.

“Yes, that’s Iris.” He picked up the beer, took a slow swallow. “Is she one of them?”

“I don’t know yet. Her mother’s dead, beaten to death by the guy she lived with in North Carolina. April of ’forty-five.”

“That would’ve been six or eight months after Iris came to me, and a few months before she left us.”

“Any other girls who left about that time?”

“No, at least none who didn’t go back to a parent or guardian. Which is encouraged—strongly—when they’re spinning a tale as Merry did.”

“As Merry did?”

“You’ve looked at her background by now, so you know—as I did—she came from an average family. No reports of abuse, no Double Ds—and yes, some of that often isn’t reported. But I know when a girl’s lying to me. And her claims of terror and misery at home were lies.”

He paused to consider his beer again. “She paid far too high a price for it. If and when you have more photos, I’ll look at them.”

“He fished in your pool, and The Sanctuary’s. Where was your flop during this period?”

“We had three on rotation that year, year and a half. As I assumed you’d ask, I’ve noted them down.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket, handed it to her. “All three buildings have been renovated and are occupied now, but at the time they were useful.”

“Where’s your flop now?”

He smiled a little. “I won’t tell you the truth, and find myself reluctant to lie to you. So.” He gave a small, elegant shrug, sipped his beer. “If you need to talk to me again, Mavis knows how to contact me.”

Eve sat back, considered. She wouldn’t break her word to Mavis and run him in on the stream of charges that came to mind. And for now, he might be useful.

“The other two in Shelby’s crew. What do you know about them?”

“The boy, nothing. DeLonna...” He hesitated. “She’s alive and well.”

“I need to talk to her.”