and jaw as she spoke. “I don’t need your advice, I need your help.”
“Then what?” Cain asked in the same clipped pattern Shelby was using. “I’m supposed to deliver these guys, line them up, and watch you kill them all? After that, what, we shake hands and go back to opposite sides and pretend it never happened?” With so much talk about temptation, she tried not to go with the urge to fling Shelby out the front door. “To you I’m a devil who needs to be locked away, but because you’re angry you’re willing to look the other way. The Bracatos aren’t my problem, so don’t pretend to know what happened or how I fit in. You should be familiar with the Bureau’s response when Big Tony killed my family. Did you close that case yet?”
“No, but there’s no denying it is closed.”
Emma squeezed Cain’s fingers when she started to say something else. “You have a strange way of asking for a favor, Agent Phillips,” Emma said in a way that telegraphed her bad mood. “I know you find it hard to believe Cain is simply a businesswoman, but there you have it. I’m truly sorry for your loss, but if you want a homicidal maniac’s help, try your employer. Annabel seems to breed them. We can’t help you.”
Cain stood and opened the door, since Emma had wrapped up nicely. She had nothing else to add. “Take care, Shelby, and give my best to Detective O’Brannigan. That’s such a nice Irish name. I’m surprised she’s still here in New Orleans.”
“The case originated here, and she feels she owes it to my father to find these guys, so she’s applying for transfer.” Shelby hesitated, as if it would take Lou to carry her out. “At least she understands and is willing to help.”
“I wish you both the best of luck, then.”
“How do you know her name?”
“Fascinating people are a hobby of mine,” she said as she waved her hand toward the front of the house. “If she’s planning to settle here, we’ll send a fruit basket.”
The sarcasm made Shelby frown and got her moving. “I thought you’d be more sympathetic.”
“I am,” she said when Shelby stopped a foot beside her. “But your fight isn’t mine to wage. Hypothetically, if I were in your place, the death of those most precious to me would be personal. It’s not something I’d trust to anyone else, no matter how good at killing I think they are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Grow your own orchard, Shelby, and decide how big a sin you’re willing to commit. You’ll have to carry your answer for eternity, so be honest with yourself.” She smiled at Carmen and walked Shelby to the door herself.
“Hypothetically, how would you carry something like that?”
“Without guilt, but then my orchard is a place to…frolic. Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”
“So the devil has no remorse?”
“Even God feels remorse, and I’m not that perfect. What you asked for will stay between us, so be careful of talking to anyone else about it. From what I hear, the FBI and other authorities frown upon revenge killings.”
*
Fiona O’Brannigan stood in concourse B of the New Orleans airport staring down the slope and trying to spot her mother. Judice O’Brannigan had surprisingly decided to visit at the last minute, right after Fiona had told her about her transfer. She’d received a return call ten minutes after that conversation with the flight information.
The usually stoic and hardworking Judice didn’t often indulge in whims like this.
Despite the last-minute warning, Fiona was happy her mom was here. Judice had been a single parent when society hadn’t been very accepting of the concept, and the crap they’d endured together had made them extremely close. She planned to convince her mother to move to New Orleans too.
When her mother started toward her, she laughed at the number of men who stared. Even in her late sixties, Judice was an attractive woman who prided herself on her appearance. Why she did
“Then what?” Cain asked in the same clipped pattern Shelby was using. “I’m supposed to deliver these guys, line them up, and watch you kill them all? After that, what, we shake hands and go back to opposite sides and pretend it never happened?” With so much talk about temptation, she tried not to go with the urge to fling Shelby out the front door. “To you I’m a devil who needs to be locked away, but because you’re angry you’re willing to look the other way. The Bracatos aren’t my problem, so don’t pretend to know what happened or how I fit in. You should be familiar with the Bureau’s response when Big Tony killed my family. Did you close that case yet?”
“No, but there’s no denying it is closed.”
Emma squeezed Cain’s fingers when she started to say something else. “You have a strange way of asking for a favor, Agent Phillips,” Emma said in a way that telegraphed her bad mood. “I know you find it hard to believe Cain is simply a businesswoman, but there you have it. I’m truly sorry for your loss, but if you want a homicidal maniac’s help, try your employer. Annabel seems to breed them. We can’t help you.”
Cain stood and opened the door, since Emma had wrapped up nicely. She had nothing else to add. “Take care, Shelby, and give my best to Detective O’Brannigan. That’s such a nice Irish name. I’m surprised she’s still here in New Orleans.”
“The case originated here, and she feels she owes it to my father to find these guys, so she’s applying for transfer.” Shelby hesitated, as if it would take Lou to carry her out. “At least she understands and is willing to help.”
“I wish you both the best of luck, then.”
“How do you know her name?”
“Fascinating people are a hobby of mine,” she said as she waved her hand toward the front of the house. “If she’s planning to settle here, we’ll send a fruit basket.”
The sarcasm made Shelby frown and got her moving. “I thought you’d be more sympathetic.”
“I am,” she said when Shelby stopped a foot beside her. “But your fight isn’t mine to wage. Hypothetically, if I were in your place, the death of those most precious to me would be personal. It’s not something I’d trust to anyone else, no matter how good at killing I think they are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Grow your own orchard, Shelby, and decide how big a sin you’re willing to commit. You’ll have to carry your answer for eternity, so be honest with yourself.” She smiled at Carmen and walked Shelby to the door herself.
“Hypothetically, how would you carry something like that?”
“Without guilt, but then my orchard is a place to…frolic. Yeah, that’s a good word for it.”
“So the devil has no remorse?”
“Even God feels remorse, and I’m not that perfect. What you asked for will stay between us, so be careful of talking to anyone else about it. From what I hear, the FBI and other authorities frown upon revenge killings.”
*
Fiona O’Brannigan stood in concourse B of the New Orleans airport staring down the slope and trying to spot her mother. Judice O’Brannigan had surprisingly decided to visit at the last minute, right after Fiona had told her about her transfer. She’d received a return call ten minutes after that conversation with the flight information.
The usually stoic and hardworking Judice didn’t often indulge in whims like this.
Despite the last-minute warning, Fiona was happy her mom was here. Judice had been a single parent when society hadn’t been very accepting of the concept, and the crap they’d endured together had made them extremely close. She planned to convince her mother to move to New Orleans too.
When her mother started toward her, she laughed at the number of men who stared. Even in her late sixties, Judice was an attractive woman who prided herself on her appearance. Why she did
Similar Books
