“Sometimes the punishment fits the crime far too well,” he said, then closed his eyes. An instant later he staggered, eyes flying open as he put a hand out to steady himself against his car.

His gaze snapped up to me, horror and shame warring in his features. “Kara ... I ...” He swallowed harshly. “I’m sorry if I said anything to—”

“What punishment?” I asked, blood pounding in my ears. “What did you mean? What was the crime?”

Agony rippled across his face. “I don’t know. Kara, I don’t even know what I said, I swear. I’m sorry. Please, believe me.”

I wanted to grab him and shake the answers out of him. He had to have been talking about Ryan. What the fuck had all that meant? His words were seared into my mind. Even the most powerful get screwed. Ryan?

But Knight looked like he was a hairbreadth away from a complete freak-out. It was such a divergence from his usual calm that it pulled me out of my own shock. “It’s all right,” I made myself say. “It didn’t really mean anything. It’s all right.”

Doubt shadowed his eyes, but the horror faded from his expression. He gave an uncertain nod. “I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“You okay now?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m cool.” He opened his car door and I could see him pulling his mask on, the lazy smile slipping into place, though not fitting quite as perfectly as before. “Y’all be sure to keep me posted on the case, all right?”

I gave him the relaxed smile he needed to see. “You got it. Be careful driving back to New Orleans.”

He winked, then climbed into his car and drove off.

I waited a few seconds, then followed suit, his strange pronouncements still echoing in my head.

What the hell had all of that meant?

Chapter 25

Rain began to fall as I drove back to the other side of the lake, but to my relief this was a normal southern rainstorm—not an unnerving thunderstorm like the other day.

The traffic was down to one lane on part of the highway due to construction, and my phone rang as I waited in a long line of cars for my turn to proceed. Ryan, I noted absently without looking at the phone. I sighed. I can’t avoid talking to him any longer and have any shred of maturity left.

“Hey, Ryan,” I answered. “Sorry I haven’t called you yet. I’ve been kinda slammed.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. “It’s cool,” he said with an odd hitch in his voice. “So the drummer’s death was a murder as well?”

“I’m positive. I don’t know when Dr. Lanza will do the autopsy to officially rule it as a homicide, but that resonance was there.”

I heard him make a frustrated noise. “Okay, so everything’s more complicated. We need to all get together and see if we can come up with anything brilliant. Have you had lunch yet?”

Yeah, a nice public place would be best. “Nope. How about East Shore Diner?”

“Works for me. Meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

East Shore Diner was a favored meal destination for law enforcement for three reasons: it was open twenty-four hours, it offered highly edible food at prices cops could afford, and it had two parking lots—one on the side where the majority of the customers parked, and a second one in the rear of the diner that couldn’t be seen from the highway. It was the parking lot in the rear that was the most appealing feature, especially for cops working the night shift. Its location offered patrol officers the chance to eat at an unhurried pace and relax a bit—radio traffic permitting—without fear that some irate citizen would call the dispatcher and complain that a police car had been parked at the restaurant for at least half an hour, and why were tax dollars being wasted in such a fashion?

The diner itself was nothing special to look at. It had originally been a bait shop, and the exterior décor had been updated not one bit since its transformation to a diner, except for the addition of a deliciously garish neon sign that proclaimed EATS! complete with the flashing arrow that pointed to the building.

Ryan was already there in the side parking lot when I pulled up, a scowl on his face and his phone to his ear. “I’m trying to get Zack to answer his fucking phone,” he explained after I got out of my car.

A sliver of worry intruded. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday evening. Have you?”

Ryan gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah, he’s fine. I know that much.” He lowered the phone and pressed the end call button. “But apparently he’s started seeing someone, and he’s being really fucking tight-lipped about it. I sent him a text, and he acknowledged it, but he won’t pick up the phone. Probably afraid I’ll hear him doing things that involve wet slapping sounds.”

I didn’t hear what he said next as I closed my eyes, beginning to laugh. I am the biggest fucking moron who has ever walked the earth. Yes, Kara, lots of cops drive dark-colored Crown Vics ...

“Kara? What’s so funny?”

You mean besides the fact that I’m an insecure idiot who needs to have a little more faith in her friends? “I think I know who he’s seeing.”

He raised an eyebrow at me in question.

“I, uh, was kinda bummed out last night and I was going to see if Jill was still awake and wanted ice cream. And, well, there was a Crown Vic in her driveway with government plates.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Ho-ly shit. Zack and ...” He began to laugh.

“Oh, god, Zack and Jill.” I joined his laughter. But, does Jill know that Zack is ... isn’t human?

After a moment he managed to control himself. “That’s seriously funny.” Then he gave me a more concerned look. “If you were having a tough time, why didn’t you give me a call?”

“Well, um, for a second I actually thought that it was you at Jill’s house.” I tried to shrug and laugh it off. “I mean, it was only for a second, but y’know ... And, besides, I kinda needed some girl talk.” Wow, that sounded lame.

The look of shock on his face surprised me. “You thought that I would ... with Jill?” Pain and disappointment flashed across his features, then he looked away and gave a laugh that sounded oddly forced. “Jill’s not my type.”

“What is your type, Ryan?” I said it before I could stop myself.

His gaze snapped back to me, spearing me. I wanted to take back the question, but I couldn’t think of any way to do so that wouldn’t have me sounding like a complete moron. Did I want to know the answer? Only if it describes me, I thought in stupid adolescent hope.

We were saved by the sound of tires screeching on asphalt. We both spun to see a Crown Vic—a black one—bounce over the curb and screech to a stop. Zack practically leaped out of the car and approached us with a wide smile. I noted with amusement that he had stubble on his chin.

“Dude,” I said, shaking my head. “I know Jill’s house is small, but I’m sure she could spare some space in her bathroom for you to leave a razor.”

He stared at me in openmouthed shock for a heartbeat. “Are you a—” He stopped and then shifted his expression to a rueful grin. “Busted. Yeah, we’ve been seeing each other.”

“Did you go up a hill?” I asked innocently.

He looked at me with a blank expression.

“To fetch a pail of water?” Ryan finished, grinning.

Zack groaned. “You two are a couple of assholes.”

“It’s why you love us,” Ryan said, voice dry. “C’mon, let’s get food. Kara has a bunch of shit to fill us in on.”

We found a booth that was well away from any other customers. As soon as the waitress had taken our orders I filled them both in on the findings from the computer examinations, what I’d gleaned from Roger’s murder scene, and the interview with Lida.

Zack frowned and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “So, with Roger’s murder, we still have the possibility that Vic really was killed by mistake.”

I grimaced. “No, I’m having a hard time buying that. Vic Kerry is still linked to both Adam and Roger financially. I just have to pin down how. Besides, if the thing was going after Roger, why go to the City Towers where there was no guarantee that Roger would even be there?” I shrugged. “And for that matter, why go to City Towers if it was after Vic? Seems that there’d be more risk of it being seen.”

Ryan tapped the table absently. “Where did Vic live?”

“Emerald Heights condominiums.” I paused. “Which is gated and has security. Gold star to Ryan!”

He gave me a pleased nod. “Harder to get in, and surveillance video keeps track of cars coming and going.”

Zack exhaled. “Which brings up back to believing that Vic truly was the intended target of that attack.”

“I have all of Roger’s financial information. I sent off subpoenas for Vic’s and Adam’s but it’ll take weeks to get any returns from those. But I do have the info from Vic’s computer and the books we seized at the crime scene.” I tugged a hand through my hair, grimacing. “What I can’t figure out is how the attack on Lida figures into any of this. If the intent had been to kill her, why do it in such a public way?”

We paused while the waitress delivered our food. Ryan looked askance at my entrée. “You’re really having fries for lunch?”

“It’s not just fries,” I said. “It’s cheese and gravy on top of fries. Three of the four food groups!”

He stared at me. “What the hell is your cholesterol level?”

“It’s one!” I said, showing him my middle finger.

Zack grinned. “Don’t get between a woman and her comfort food, Ryan.”

I glared at him as I dug into my healthy repast. Was it that obvious I was in need of comfort food?

“Well, it looks like I’m in for an exciting evening of looking at financial information,” I said after a few minutes of lubricating my arteries. “And I think that the rest of the Financial Crimes Task Force really needs to be helping me out with this!” I gave them both a hopeful grin.