“I thought by you.”

The senator shook his head. “I loved her,” he said. “Even after everything that happened, I still do. She was the love of my life. I could never have hurt her. How do you know she was murdered?”

“Because after she drowned, somebody tried to kill my father.”

“When was this?”

“Nineteen ninety-four.”

“How do you know that someone tried to kill your father?”

“I just do.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll believe you.”

“But whoever killed her and tried to kill my dad, it didn’t end there. I believe that the same person killed Laszlo Toth and then burned down my old house.”

“Because of the file?”

“Why else?”

Francis Truscott IV sat there and thought for a bit, and then he closed his eyes, put his hands over his face. “My God,” he said softly.

“What?”

“No matter how sharp we think we are, Kyle, the only ones we’re able to fool all the time are ourselves.”

CHAPTER 47

AS KYLE WATCHED Truscott drag himself out of Bubba’s, looking as if something had broken inside him, Kyle felt as if he himself had been punched in the gut. It could have been an act, the senator’s sorry tale, a ruse, a pack of lies told by a merciless killer. And that the teller was a politician made such a possibility seem all the more plausible. But there was something about the story, and the telling of it, that rang so true. As did the tolling of that half a million dollars.

His father had never mentioned the payoff when he told Kyle of why he left. Kyle bet the half a mil made the exile a hell of a lot easier. And the fact that he had told Kyle to ask for the same amount put his father’s present motives in serious doubt. Was he really trying to catch a killer, or was he merely using Kyle to set up another halfmillion-dollar score? Kyle had never realized before how difficult it was to be a son.

“Did the son of a bitch confess?” said Skitch, slipping into the senator’s seat after a suitable interval.

“Not really,” said Kyle.

“Bastard. But did you get what you needed?”

“I don’t know what I need,” said Kyle. “That’s the problem.” “Bro, what’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” said Kyle, “but I don’t have long to find out. And let me tell you something, Skitch. Once I do, somebody is going to pay.”

“You got the look, man.”

“What look?”

“Remember that game with Chaucer’s when that creep tackled Bubba Jr. with a takeout slide into second? And you slammed the ball into the outfield and then jogged around the bases slow enough to ensure a play at the plate, and then you laid out the catcher so brutally they had to cart his ass off to the hospital?”

“I broke his jaw.”

“That look,” said Skitch.

“Hey, Kyle,” said Bubba Jr. from behind the bar. “You got a call.”

Kyle scooted out of the booth and reached for the phone, but Bubba pulled it away before he could get his hands on it. “Everything go okay?”

“I suppose. No gunplay at least.”

“I got to tell you, Kyle, seeing a United States senator walk through my door scared the hell out of me. Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Do I ever?”

“Be careful. You’re in deep water now, where the sharks swim. And thanks a hell of a lot for pulling me in with you.”

“I was wondering who I could rely on in the middle of a godawful mess, and I realized it was pretty much only Skitch and Kat and you.”

“That’s plain sad. But I got to tell you, you look damn good in a suit.”

BLOOD AND BONE 311

“Now you’re scaring me, Junior,” said Kyle as he took the handset. Kyle figured it was Kat calling from her perch outside, letting him know where the senator headed after he left. He was hoping it was Kat, because if it wasn’t, it was probably his father, and he had no idea what the hell he’d say to him, at least not yet. But he was wrong, it was neither.

“Is this Kyle Byrne?” came the voice, a female voice, old and tremulous, but with a brutal self-possession.

“Yes, this is Kyle Byrne.”

“You just had a meeting with Senator Truscott, and the senator just left, isn’t that correct?”

“That’s right. Who is this?”

“And in that meeting you discussed with the senator a certain file that you found in your old house, even as it was burning down around you.”

“Maybe,” said Kyle slowly.

“Dear, don’t try to play games with me. You don’t have the testicles for it.”

Kyle couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

“What was decided in your meeting?” said the voice.

“None of your business.”

“But it is, you see. Nothing could be more my business. You wanted to sell the file to him, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, actually.”

“And is he buying?”

“No. He refused. He told me to do with it as I wished.”

“The truculent fool. So then the file is still for sale, I presume.”

Kyle thought for a moment and laughed again. This time he laughed because, even though he had never heard the voice before, he realized exactly whom he was talking to. “Yes, it’s still for sale.” “Do you have a price in mind?”

“Half a mil.”

“You are an ambitious guttersnipe, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Yes, I suppose. But it’s important we each remember our respective stations. That’s something your father frequently forgot.” She gave him an address in Chestnut Hill, among the toniest old-line neighborhoods in the city. “Can you find it?”

“Probably.”

“You will come tonight, you will bring the file, we will discuss your price.”

“There won’t be any discussion,” said Kyle. “And no checks. Cash.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. And of course you will come alone.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’m not into sharing.”

“Just like your father.”

“You’ll have the money when I show?”

“Of course I will, dear. I’ll keep up my end, I always do. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late. Ciao.”