He didn’t answer, instead reaching into his jacket and pulling a plain white envelope from the inner pocket. He handed the envelope to me, and I saw my name typewritten on the front. The envelope was still sealed.

I closed my eyes for a moment as I fought a wave of self-pity. Wasn’t there enough shit going on in my life already? Did I really need mysterious letters delivered through Brian?

“If someone wanted to give this to me,” I mused, “then why did they leave it at your building?”

“Beats me,” Brian answered, looking worried.

I stared at the envelope, trying to guess what might be inside. I guess I stared a little too long, because Brian prompted me.

“Well? Are you going to open it?”

“Back off,” I snapped, then wanted to slap myself silly for killing the messenger. “Sorry. I just can’t imagine there’s anything good in here, and I’m not in a big hurry to add to my problems.”

Brian smiled faintly. “Lawyers get to be the bearers of bad tidings on a regular basis. I’m used to being underappreciated.”

“Ha, ha,” I said, though I’m not sure that was supposed to be a joke. “Can you give me a minute?” I didn’t want him looking over my shoulder while I read, just in case. . Well, just in case.

He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve done my messenger duty, and now I’m dismissed?”

I fought the urge to snap at him again. “I’m not dismissing you. I just want a quiet moment to open this and read it. Is that too much to ask?”

He gave me a reproachful look, but he pushed away from the counter and stomped out of the kitchen. Even after he’d gone, I still had trouble forcing myself to open the envelope, but there was only so long even I could procrastinate.

Trying to steel myself for all possibilities, I slid a finger under the flap and ripped the envelope open.

Inside, there was a photograph, along with a neatly handwritten letter. The photo was the one Claudia had showed me at the restaurant, the one of her adopted daughters.

The letter was from Claudia.

Ms. Kingsley,

They have my daughters. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to tell you the truth about why I wanted you to drop the case, but I was told in unequivocal terms that I am to act as though nothing were wrong. Still, while I don’t know you very well, I imagine you’re the kind of person who would be unwilling to drop the case just on my say-so, so I felt I had to take the risk of contacting you.

They are watching my every move, and most likely yours, too. I can’t contact you personally, but I will try to get this letter to you in a roundabout fashion that will avoid detection. I just hope it doesn’t reach you too late.

I love my son, more than I can say. I desperately wish there were something I could do to save him. But I can’t risk my daughters. They are helpless children, and I can’t bear to do anything to endanger them. The kidnappers have pointed out that with two hostages, they can afford to kill one as a message if anyone “misbehaves,” as they put it. Please, Ms. Kingsley. Drop the case. Don’t ask any more questions. These are very bad people, and I believe they won’t hesitate to hurt the girls. Don’t give them an excuse.

Claudia

My heart dangled somewhere around my knees. Just what I needed. A hostage crisis. And after I’d spent last night questioning Shae about Tommy. Please, God, don’t let the bad guys retaliate against those children!

My throat knotted up, and I swallowed to try to loosen it. There was nothing I could do to change the past, and if Tommy’s friends had found out what I’d been up to last night, then at least one of those children might already be doomed. Tears stung my eyes, and I cursed Tommy Brewster and all his demon friends. While I was at it, I cursed Raphael for having enabled the whole breeding program and for whatever information he might be withholding at the moment.

I heard Brian turn on the TV in the living room and wondered if I should show him the note. Would he have any better idea what to do about it than I did? I let out a heavy sigh and closed my eyes. This was Mr. By-The-Books I was talking about. His natural reaction to seeing this letter would be to call the police. He and I rate on opposite ends of the cynicism scale. Most likely, he’d believe the police could actually help in this situation. Myself, I believed the police would get those kids killed. Which meant I couldn’t tell him.

Your Mr. By-The-Books helped me arrange your father’s death, Lugh’s voice whispered in my mind, and it was all I could do to suppress a groan. Obviously I was reaching stress overload, since my subconscious firewall appeared to be failing me.

Stay out of my head, Lugh, I thought furiously at him. I had the faint impression of laughter, but he didn’t otherwise respond. Maybe that had been just a momentary fluke, a glitch in my defenses.

He was right about the tarnish on Brian’s suit of shining armor. But that didn’t mean Brian wouldn’t go to the police about this. He’d helped Lugh with my father out of a desperate desire to save me when all other hope had failed. In this situation, he was much more likely to put his hope in the police than in me.

The TV clicked off, and I heard Brian’s footsteps approaching. I guess he’d gotten tired of waiting. Wishing I could calm the racing of my heart, I folded the photographs back into the letter and stuffed the letter into the envelope just as Brian rounded the corner into the kitchen.

We engaged in a long staring contest that ended in what I interpreted as a draw. Brian’s eyes were shadowed with pain.

“You’re not going to tell me what this is all about, are you?” he asked, and the hurt in his voice was almost more than I could bear.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice thick with genuine regret. I wished I trusted him enough to tell him the whole story. It seemed patently unfair, even to me, that I should love him this much and still not be able to give him my trust. But part of what I loved about him was his basic goodness. I loved that he was always willing to do the right thing, even when it wasn’t in his own best interests. I loved his sense of honor and decency, even though sometimes I cursed him for it. I loved his faith in mankind’s goodness, even though I didn’t share it.

Brian’s gaze dropped to the kitchen floor, and he shook his head. “Why do I bother hoping?” he muttered to himself, and the words hurt like a stab to the heart.

“Brian—” I started, reaching out to him, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to make this better.

He twitched away from my reaching hand. I flinched at the rejection, then flinched again when he put on his damn lawyer face. Even so, I forced myself to meet his eyes.

“I guess I know you better than you know me,” Brian said.

I frowned in puzzlement. “What the hell does that mean?” I asked, hoping to come off angry instead of hurt. I think I succeeded, but if Brian knew me as well as he claimed, he’d see right through it.

He folded his arms over his chest, still meeting my gaze, still hiding his feelings behind his lawyer face. “Was it because you were trying to ‘protect’ me again, or was it because you’re afraid I’ll go to the police? I couldn’t decide which it would be.”

I’m capable of being pretty dense at times, but now I had no trouble figuring out what he meant. The fake anger turned into real anger.

“You opened the letter, you asshole!”

Brian unfolded his arms, then covered his eyes with one hand as he barked out a bitter laugh. “You’re absolutely priceless, you know.”

“What?”

“It’s amazing how you can turn any situation into an opportunity to get mad at someone no matter what you yourself have done.”

I scowled at him. “If you’re just figuring this out, then you don’t know me as well as you claim.”