Shane straightened a little. Running the Organization could do a lot to alleviate the boredom he’d been feeling lately.

“You were not at the debriefing.”

“I had a family emergency to attend to. The first in my career.”

Wilson’s head turned toward the house, as if just noticing the ongoing crashing inside. “It appears the emergency is still in continuance.” He turned back toward Shane. “The individual you killed in Savannah was a mid-level mob contact who was to transfer the payment for Dean’s hit”

“Then why did the intel indicate Dean was at that club?”

“A mistake from one of our lesser agencies. It’s surprising they got that close to Casey I Dean.”

“It wasn’t very close,” Shane observed.

“You took out Dean’s source of payment. That will upset Dean.”

“Who is Dean’s target?”

“You have no need to know.”

Shane had heard that answer more times than he could count in his time working for Wilson. If he got Wilson’s job, he’d know a lot more.

“We believe Dean will still try to fulfill the contract.”

“Without being paid?”

“We believe the contractor will still pay.”

“Who is the contractor?”

Shane braced himself for another No Need To Know. But instead Wilson turned and looked out at the low country. “Don Michael Fortunato. He’s coming here for a wedding. We think the Don is doing a preemptive strike, taking out someone who’s a threat to him while he’s here for the ceremony. It appears the Don fears a rat.”

Shane stared out at the swamp. Fucking Fortunatos.

“The nuptials should be quite lively,” Wilson said.

“Agnes!” Taylor had said as Agnes had picked up the next plate and slung it after the first one into the hall, where it smashed onto the tile floor. It had been satisfying, but it had lacked form somehow. “I need a point system,” she’d told Taylor, and was working one out-ten points for a dinner plate, maybe eight for a soup bowl, triple that if any of them hit his lying fatheaded skull-when he tried to take the box from her

“Hey.” She yanked it back, and started grabbing dishes from it and slinging them out into the hall as fast as she could, one after the other, while he yelled, “Goddammit, Agnes, what the hell are you doing?”

How are you feeling right now, Agnes? Bite me, Dr. Garvin.

“I hate a liar, Taylor,” she said as she sent the last of the teacups after the dinner plates and started on the saucers. “You’ve been lying to me, just like you’re lying to me about these crap dishes, you’ve beenlying to me about Brenda, and that makes me mad.”

He tried to grab the box from her, but she was in hyperdrive by now, diving to the bottom for soup bowls.

“Because Idon’t get it. I don’t get why some people are so goddamn selfish”-a bowl went flying-”that they think it’s all right”-and another-”for them to lie in their goddamn teeth”-and another-”so that they can get what they want.” She stopped for a moment to breathe and looked him in the eye. “Why do you and Brenda get to lie and cheat and everybody else has to play fair?”

“Agnes, it’s not what it looks like-”

“Hold it,” Agnes said, plate in hand, hot anger going cold in an instant. “Do not even think about pulling that line on me, you and your fine Southern gentleman crap-”

Taylor’s face darkened. “Now wait a minute-”

“-because you are no gentleman, betraying a commitment-”

“-I keep my commitments-”

“And you expect me to be your wife?” Agnes shrieked in his face, forgetting she was about to dump him. “Some fineSouthern gentleman, betraying his own wife-”

“I haven’t betrayed my wife!” Taylor snapped.

“What?” Agnes said, stopped in her tracks, and then as Taylor’s face grew slack with the realization of what he’d just said, she sucked in her breath and said, “You’re married? You’re already married to somebody else?”

“Now, Agnes,” he said, and as a red haze flooded the kitchen, she lunged for the counter and grabbed the nearest thing at hand.

“You’re my obvious replacement,” Wilson said to Shane as he prepared to go. “A seasoned professional, an unblemished record, and, we thought, no personal ties to distract you from your work.”

“My uncle is hardly a personal tie,” Shane said. “He’s called me for help once in twenty-five years.”

“Right before you made the only mistake of your career,” Wilson said, no expression in his voice at all.

“The mistake was not mine,” Shane said.

“You’ve caught bad intel before,” Wilson said. “You should have caught it this time. Can you honestly say you weren’t distracted by personal issues?”

Shane met his eyes squarely. “I-”

His cell phone rang.

Since he was staring at one of the four people who had the number, and the second one was in the boat, watching him with nonjudgmental eyes, and the third was in the house, throwing dishes, it had to be Joey.

Wilson waited and Shane knew it was a test.

It rang again.

Shane answered it. “Yeah?”

“Agnes okay?” Joey asked.

“She’s in the house throwing dishes at Taylor.” Take a cue from my voice and hang up, Joey.

“Shit. If that hairball says the wrong thing, she’ll kill him.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Shane met Wilson’s eyes. He wasn’t passing the test.

“She’s on probation already,” Joey said. “She’s bashed two fiancés and had one dead guy in her basement. As long as she’s throwing dishes, she’s probably okay, but she ends up with another assault charge or, God forbid, another body, and-”

“Hold it,” Shane said, and listened.

The house was silent.

“Fuck,” he said, and sprinted for the back door.

Agnes stood very still as the kitchen swung around her. There was a faint roaring in her ears, and the floor rocked, and she let the box fall off the counter and onto the tile, where the rest of the dishes in it smashed. “Agnes?” Taylor said.

“Your wife.” She took a step forward and raised her hand, surprised to find a meat fork in it.

She’d been expecting a knife.

“Agnes.” Taylor tried to move away, but she put the fork on his Adam’s apple and pressed hard and he stepped back against the table, arching his back to get away from her until his shoulders touched the swinging door to the basement.

“Behind you is the door the kid fell through last night,” Agnes said calmly. “He died, so I think you should stay very still right now.”

“Ag-” He tried to turn his head and sidle away, and she pressed harder, breaking the skin.

“Do you know how sharp this fork is? Of course you do. Stand still and talk fast. How long have you been married to Brenda? You are married to Brenda, right? You didn’t bring another woman into this just to mind-fuck me?”

“Agnes, it doesn’t mean-”

She pressed a little harder and the blood began to drip down his neck. “Did I ever tell you about my anger problem, Taylor?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding along the tine of the fork. “Yes.”

“How long have you been married to Brenda?”

“Not long.”

“You lie.” She pressed harder.

Taylor’s voice came out strangled, probably because he was afraid to swallow. “May second.”

“The day before we signed the house papers.” He knew all along, he’s known about the swindle from the beginning, he lied and lied and I believed him, he lied-

“Agnes, honey, it was a terrible mistake.” He swallowed again, sweating now. “I knew it right away, but I couldn’t leave her, it was the only way I was sure of keeping the house. For us. For us.”

Agnes could hear herself breathing hard, just like in the horror films. Almost like watching herself, listening to herself. He knew all along, he lied to me, he lied.