"Before he died, Brutus told me a paper trail had already been set up, linking me to Gordon Giles. The guy at your apartment said the cops were looking high and low for me. A couple hours later, my distorted sketch is all over the news, along with my supposed relationship with Gordon Giles. How could all that happen without an inside guy in the police department?"
"Something Donovan Caine could figure out himself, if he was smart enough," Finn said. "I still don't see how this will get the detective to help you."
"He might be smart, but Caine has a blind eye and soft spot for his fellow boys in blue.
He's loyal to them and the idea cops are good people. That they really do serve and protect and all that. You saw how hot and bothered he was to find his partner's killer.
How do you think he'll react if I tell him somebody in the department is helping Giles's murderer? And that he was okay with taking Caine out too just for being there?"
Finn thought about it. "He'd probably be pissed."
"Exactly. So I'll offer to trade information with him. He helps me find the person who set up Giles. I help him root out corruption in the police department. You know what a do-gooder Caine is. I'll appeal to his sense of justice."
More silence. Then Finn snorted. "I can't believe you said that with a straight face." I grinned.
Finn shook his head. "That elemental magic in your veins has finally driven you nuts, Gin. Insanity. Complete insanity. Did you see that press conference? Donovan Caine isn't exactly running the police department. His captain shuffled him to the background for a reason-to keep him quiet. The cops want you dead because they're being paid to look the other way or just don't care enough to find out what really happened. Probably both."
"Which is all the more reason to go to Caine. He was trying to protect Gordon Giles, and he can tell me what
Giles was up to. Plus, he's probably the only cop in the city who won't shoot me on sight. Or try to."
"Maybe, maybe not. You know my thoughts on honest men." "That there aren't any." Finn shot his forefinger at me. "Precisely."
I went over to the sofa, sat down, and put my feet up on the coffee table. "Do you have a better idea? Because if you do, tell me. I'm the one wanted for a murder.
Normally, that wouldn't bother me, except this time I didn't even do it."
"But how do you know Donovan Caine will even listen to you?" Finn asked. "You killed his partner, Gin. He might not have known that before, had any clue who you were or what you looked like, but after your performance at the opera house last night, I'm willing to bet he's put two and two together. Or is at least thinking real hard about it."
I thought of Caine's hesitation on the balcony. He could have shot me, and the case would have been closed. Could have put a bullet in my heart as easy as I could slam a knife into his. But he hadn't.
"Donovan Caine wants to figure out who's behind this, too. His sense of honor, of duty, won't let him leave it alone. Especially when he realizes he would have been just as dead as Gordon Giles if I hadn't mucked up everything."
"All right," Finn said. "Say the good detective does want to see truth and justice and all those other platitudes prevail. How do you propose we make contact with Caine?
Without getting shot or otherwise immediately killed? Somebody's sure to be keeping tabs on him."
"Simple," I replied. "We're going to do the thing the Air elemental and the cops will least expect us to do."
Finn shook his head. "Don't say it. Please don't say it."
"We're going to pay Donovan Caine a visit-in broad daylight," I finished. Finn just groaned.
Finn tried to talk me out of it, of course. Listed all the reasons why meeting with Donovan Caine was tricky at best, lethal at worst. Finn talked and pleaded and begged until his face was just as blue and purple and green as it had been before Jo-Jo healed him.
But he didn't change my mind.
Despite all my training, despite all the times I'd walked away from botched jobs, I wasn't going to run. Not this time. Assassins weren't supposed to take anything personally, weren't supposed to give in to their emotions or indulge their feelings.
Get paid. Do the job. Walk away. Don't look back. That was the way the game was played.
But I couldn't ignore the cold, hard knot of rage in my chest. I didn't mind being shot at or thought of as a monster. I had too much blood on my hands to think of myself as anything else. But I'd be damned if I was going to let somebody double-cross me because she was too much of a coward to accept the consequences of her own actions.
Fletcher had died, been hideously tortured, because of this scheme, and Finn had almost been beaten to death. Somebody was going to pay for that-all of it. With her f**king life.
After Finn realized I wasn't budging, we got to work. Finn reached out to a few people willing to give him information on Donovan Caine-for a price. Meanwhile, I went back through the file Fletcher had given me on Gordon Giles.
I didn't know when Fletcher had been approached to do the job or by whom, but he'd compiled a substantial amount of information on Giles. Net worth. Business deals.
Real estate holdings. Hobbies. Habits. Charitable causes. Favorite restaurants. Fifty-four years of life reduced to a single folder's worth of paper. Kind of sad.
But the more I reviewed the information, the less convinced I became that Gordon Giles was a devious embezzler who'd stolen millions. For one thing, he didn't need the money. Giles had several million tucked away in various accounts and annuities, and pulled down even more as the chief financial officer of Halo Industries. And he didn't spend money like it was going out of style. Other than expensive suits, nice meals, deep-sea fishing trips every few months, and weekly visits to hookers, Giles tucked most of his money away. He even gave more than a million dollars to breast cancer research every year, in honor of his dead mother. What a prince.
Sure, lots of people hid their true natures behind fund-raisers and winning smiles, Mab Monroe being the prime example. But I was good at reading people, even on paper, and there was nothing in the file to suggest Giles needed or had the desire to steal. He just didn't seem greedy or desperate enough.
I flipped back to the part that detailed Giles's spending habits. You could tell a lot about a man from his vices, and they'd helped me get close to more than a few of my targets. Hookers seemed to be Giles's main expenditure. At least once a week, he dropped several thousand bucks on the girls at Northern Aggression, an upscale nightclub that would service any need, desire, or addiction you had. Sex, drugs, blood, a combination of all three. Hmm. Finn and I might have to pay Roslyn Phillips a visit at the club and see what she knew.