Jorge Santos nods, looks at his girlfriend, then looks at Elizabeth. "My apologies if this is difficult," he says to her. "I'm almost done."

"I'm not sure what I expected to find out today," Santos says. "Mr. DelaSangre, I know you're rich. Obviously, you're a powerful man. The police certainly don't want to take you on. Your two protectors here can't come cheap. But I have a missing sister to worry about and so far, you're the only possibility I've found."

I stand up and offer my hand. "I hope you realize how improbable a possibility I am."

He stands and shakes my hand, a good firm grasp. "Well, at least I don't feel any more sure today than before I came… Maybe…" He pauses, tightening his grip on my hand. "Do you think it would be possible for me to come out to your island and scout around a little-just to get rid of any remaining doubts?"

"Certainly not!" Jeremy Tindall says. "Mr. DelaSangre has been more than gracious enough already. As his attorney, I recommended against this meeting in the first place…"

"Enough, Jeremy." I disengage from Santos's grasp. "You must understand how much I value my privacy. I'm sure your research has shown you how reclusive my family has always been. We are very wealthy and that always keeps us in danger. We've found that seclusion protects us best. For these reasons I must refuse your request."

Jorge Santos smiles at me, nods his head in a slight bow toward Elizabeth, everyone standing now. "And you must understand, because of your refusal I can't throw out the possibility of your involvement in Maria's disappearance."

"We all do what we must," I say, walking from behind the desk. "I just hope one day you'll come to believe me."

Santos nods. "The eyes…" he says, looking from Elizabeth's face to mine. "Maria raved about your emerald-green eyes. Her's are the same color."

"They run in my family. Elizabeth's a distant cousin."

"Oh," Santos says, examining Elizabeth again, focusing this time on her lower neck. "I think I saw something before. May I?" he says, reaching toward the thin, gold chain she's worn since our wedding day, grabbing it, pulling up, untucking the gold charm, examining it.

"Do I have to tolerate this?" Elizabeth backs away, her movement jerking the charm from his hand.

"No!" I say, moving forward, shoving him back. "You forget. That's my wife you're bothering." I push him again. "Leave her alone!"

Santos says nothing. He allows the momentum of my second shove to knock him off his feet, drop him to his left knee. Crouched, glaring at me, he pulls up his right pants' leg, yanks his Glock automatic from the ankle holster underneath and points it at me. "Where did she get that necklace?" he growls.

Casey Morton throws open her purse, rummages through it for her pistol. Before she can produce it, Arturo presses his chrome automatic to her temple.

"What the fuck do you all think you're doing?" Jeremy asks. "This is a meeting, not a Goddamned gang war."

Santos glares at me, continues to point his pistol.

"Peter?" Elizabeth mindspeaks.

"Don't worry. We can survive far worse than this gun," I reassure her, smiling, glad I'd gone shopping at Dadeland Mall in June. Pleased to have a safe answer to his inquiry.

"Stop looking so damned smug and answer my fucking question!" Santos stands, approaches me with his arm outstretched, bringing the Glock within a foot of my head.

"Back off!" Arturo says, grabbing Morton with his free arm, pinning her arms, pointing his pistol at Santos.

Santos shakes his head. "I'll put down the gun when he answers me."

"That's hardly the way to ask me a question," I say, "but in the interest of peace I don't mind telling you-I found it in the Dadeland Mall, at Mayer's, back in June. They had it in their window. It cost me four hundred fifty dollars plus tax. I paid cash. If you give me a couple of days, I think I can search through my stuff at home and find the receipt."

"You're bluffing," Santos says. He continues to aim the gun at me. "I gave Maria a chain like that on her Quince… with the same clover charm, the same emerald in its center." He shakes his head. "This is too much of a coincidence."

"Call them now." I point to the telephone on my desk. "Ask them if they carry anything like that."

I follow him to my desk, allowing him to keep his pistol targeted on me while he dials and talks to a sales clerk at Mayer's. Finally he says, "Thank you," and hangs up. Then he lowers his pistol.

"Put yours down too," I tell Arturo. He frowns at me but does as he's told. Casey Morton rushes over to stand next to Santos. He ignores her, keeps his eyes on me.

"They don't stock them anymore," Santos says. "But she said they sold quite a few pieces like I described over the past few years. She said she thought some of the other stores might still have a few. I think I might owe you an apology."

"I believe you do."

"I still want to see the receipt."

"I'll have Arturo bring it to you, but I won't let you keep it."

Santos nods.

Jeremy comes over, stands directly in front of the Cuban. "Mr. Santos, you know you could be arrested for this firearms display today," he says, pointing his long, bony finger at him. "Someone shot at Mr. DelaSangre earlier this week. Fortunately they missed. After your little demonstration today, I would say you're the most likely suspect. I think the police would agree. I strongly suggest you keep your distance from the DelaSangres and this office from now on. If you don't, we'll have you in court, or worse, do you understand?"

Santos looks at me. "For a shooting victim you look real healthy. Trust me, if I was the shooter, you'd be a corpse." The Cuban pauses, stares at Jeremy. "Tindall's your name, isn't it?"

Jeremy nods.

"Then Mr. Tindall, watch out who you fuck with." He pushes Jeremy out of his way, takes Casey Morton's hand and walks to the door with her. He stops there, looks back at Elizabeth and me.

"I don't know," he says, shakes his head. "I have this feeling about you two."

"Feeling or not, you're wrong. I wish you well, Mr. Santos."

"Why do I doubt that?" he says, forcing a grin, his tone false friendly. "Look, you don't have to sound so damned formal. I just held a gun to your head. I think Miss Manners would say that means we've achieved some degree of intimacy. Call me Jorge."

"And you can call me Peter," I say, my tone and smile equally insincere until I spit out my final words to him. "But I think from now on, you should consider that the warning you gave to Jeremy cuts both ways."

Jorge nods, says, "Message received and understood," and leaves.

Once enough time has lapsed for the couple to have walked down the corridor and caught the elevator, Tindall lets out a breath and says, "Good riddance."

"He isn't gone for good, Jeremy," I say. "I'd bet on it."

"He could be," Arturo says.

"No," I shake my head. "I don't want him hurt."

"Sorry," I mindspeak to Elizabeth. "But I need to take back your necklace for a little while."

She frowns, shakes her head. "Why are you bothering with all this?" Elizabeth asks. "He's nothing."

"Elizabeth, please, humor me. I enjoyed myself this morning, " I say, reaching for the chain. "It isn't often that I deal with humans who are willing to oppose me. I just want to see how this all plays out."

She glares at me, backs away. "Then humor me too. It's been a long time since I've tasted young flesh. I want to hunt tonight. I want us to find young prey."

I sigh, wonder if Mother had been this difficult for my father. I have no desire to go on such a hunt, but I see no other way to win my bride's cooperation. When I nod, she grins, steps closer, permits me to undo her necklace.

Handing the necklace to Arturo, I say, "I want you to get me a receipt for this from Mayer's, dated back to June."