“What was your relationship with your brother?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you get along?”

“Yes. He was very protective of me, but he was the one who needed help. He was always athletic-he was physical-but after he got hurt he changed a lot. I worried about him being able to work. Our parents are dead. We had to make it on our own.”

“What do you mean, he changed a lot?” Nina said.

“Well, he felt like a pariah. His leg-the corrective surgery only made it worse. He was very angry.”

“Did he find out about Elliott Wakefield from you, Carleen?” Nina asked gently.

“Yes. After I started working at XYC I realized that Wakefield’s work could be extremely valuable. I told Lee about the notebook and how much XYC might pay to have it. He knew I-I was mad at Wakefield. He decided to steal the notebook. But I didn’t know! I didn’t know, Mr. Elias! I swear it! He did it to make money for himself, not because I was angry or-he never told me his plan, and as soon as he told me what happened, I went straight to you, and-”

“And I believed you, Carleen,” Tom Elias said. “Or you wouldn’t still be with us.”

“So you had no idea he might try to steal the notebook from Mr. Wakefield?” Nina said.

“None at all. He only told me afterward, when he got back to Boston. I was horrified. I did some research and found out about Sarah Hanna and confronted him. He swore he didn’t shoot her. I couldn’t get him to admit it. It was all a nightmare. I went to Mr. Elias and told him everything, and my brother disappeared. He knew how to hide, how to fake IDs. I didn’t have one word from him for over a year. Then he called me from Nevada. He was living there, in Reno. He asked me not to tell on him a second time. I saw him a few times. I’d fly out to Nevada and do some gambling and see him. I was worried about him. He just kept obsessing about how his life was ruined and that shooting.”

“Until a few weeks ago?”

“Yes. You were fighting the motion to throw out the case. It was in the local paper. Lee kept close track of the Tahoe paper. I decided to fly back and help him figure out what to do, and the first night I was at Tahoe, we saw Wakefield wander into Caesars. I was working a blackjack table and I let him find me, and Lee was watching. After Wakefield left, I had a minute to talk to Lee, and we decided I would go back to Wakefield’s place with him and make sure he wasn’t planning to do anything reckless. But we got into an argument instead. Lee’s impossible. I flew back, but I kept getting his phone calls. He didn’t have anyone else on earth to talk to. I couldn’t give him away again.”

“And Lee didn’t quit,” Nina said.

“He was afraid. The police seemed to have reopened their investigation, too. He has a thing about small places. A jail would kill him. And-I don’t know.” She had finally begun to cry. “He went back to Tahoe and tried to stop you. I told him-I couldn’t make him see. After-after the girl died-Chelsi Freeman-I told Lee he was on his own. I told him to stay away from me, not to call. I’m the only one-Lee’s my family-but I couldn’t stand it. I went to Mr. Elias again. I told him everything.”

“And what did you do about it, Mr. Elias?” Nina asked. Branson started to speak, but Elias held up a hand.

“Nothing,” he said. “We had fired Flint two years before,” he said, “but we were still worried about liability.”

“Be quiet, Mr. Elias,” Branson said.

“Shut up, Mr. Branson, your advice got us into the state we’re in today.” The lawyer sat back in his chair.

“I didn’t bring in the police,” Elias said. “That will always be on my conscience.”

“You could have prevented the deaths of two more people, Mr. Elias.”

“That’s why I’m trying to be generous to those who remain.”

“It isn’t always about money. Sometimes it’s about justice,” Nina said.

“Mr. Elias,” Branson said, “we have to cut this off. This isn’t advisable.” The other heads nodded. Dietz, the tough guy, was gnawing on his fingernails.

“Please take the offer, Ms. Reilly,” Elias said, keeping his eyes on hers. “We’re all doing the best we can.” Carleen had lapsed into quiet weeping.

“You’re still not going to the police.”

“We have stockholders. We are innocent bystanders in all this. There is no need for police involvement,” Branson said.

“Mr. Elias?”

Elias shrugged.

“Carleen? Where is your brother?” Nina asked.

“Don’t answer that,” Branson told her. She was still on the payroll. She closed her mouth. One last tear blinked out of her eye. She was miserable, but not so miserable as to ignore Branson.

Nina stood up and said, “I need to get back and unfortunately won’t be able to stay for lunch. I’ll talk to Mr. Wakefield and Mr. Hanna.”

“Talk to them in the hall. You need a cell phone? Use mine,” Branson said. They evidently thought the deal was in the bag.

Nina said, “Mr. Branson, gentlemen, thank you for inviting me here. I will get back to you. I believe the car’s still waiting downstairs.”

This time they all shook hands. Elias said, “Nice meeting you, Nina.”

Branson said, “I’ll take you back down.”

In the elevator, he stood across from her, staring at her, sweating. It’s hard work, wanting to lay waste to somebody and having to restrain yourself. “How’s it going to go?” he asked as they walked across the polished floor toward the front door of the building.

Oh, shucks. Live a little. “Badly,” Nina said. It was perhaps an ill-advised word choice. Perhaps she had an overwhelming desire to tie Branson’s balls to a string and toss them onto a telephone wire. It was precisely the wrong thing to say, and she knew it.

“Look,” Branson said. He grabbed her arm and made her face him.

“Let go of me!”

“We had our meeting. Now here’s a message from me. You faked your way this far and we’re willing to let you nick us for the money. But no little bitch is going to stop the flow of events as planned by XYC. You have the wrong lawyer and the wrong company. Flint will go down and we won’t get touched on the way. Wakefield is a psycho and he’ll be stopped one way or the other. Your client Hanna is a lying dickhead trying to make a buck off his dead wife. Take the offer and talk them into it or you’re going to get hurt and your client is gonna wish he was as dead as his wife.

“Have a good flight,” he said. He squeezed her arm hard and pushed her toward the door.

30

THEY FLEW BACK TOWARD THE MOUNTAINS. The pilot was occupied with his radio and his instruments. Nina watched California rise toward the snow and ate her peanut-butter sandwich.

She had behaved badly, not shown cur-like respect for the amount of money arrayed across the table from her in Palo Alto, and she had a bruise on her left upper arm to show for it. She was lucky Branson hadn’t sunk sharp incisors into her neck. She was lucky they hadn’t pulled the plane and made her take a Greyhound bus home. It was probably just an oversight that she was returning in style.

Or maybe Elias, the billionaire, had lifted a pinky and said, “Leave her alone.”

They knew where Flint was, but she knew things about Flint, too-that he was probably at Tahoe. It was too cold to camp, so he was staying at a hotel or motel.

Sergeant Cheney would catch up with him soon, without XYC. The only question was whether he could catch Flint before Flint hurt someone else.

She sighed. In a way Branson was right. She had gone as far as she could with the case, spent all the money she could spare for expenses, sacrificed Bob’s stability… Is it really my fault? she thought. Chelsi? Silke and Raj? This thought affected her deeply and she felt helpless. What should she do now?

First and foremost, she had a duty to the client to find the person responsible for his wife’s death and to try to recompense him for his loss in the only way the legal system could recompense him, with money. Perhaps there would be moral satisfaction and closure for Dave Hanna, too, when Flint was caught. Perhaps there would even be redemption and rehabilitation, but that would be up to Hanna.