A Face to Die For (Forensic Instincts 6)

Neil turned to Joseph, brows raised. He was a good six years younger than Joseph, although his craggy features negated that fact. Tall and lean, he was all high energy and crackling ambition. Even his attire spoke volumes about who he was. While Joseph was dressed casually in a golf shirt and jeans, Neil was wearing a suit—his only concession having been that he’d tossed the tie and opened the top buttons of the dress shirt about an hour ago.

“Yeah, the lead is substantial,” he agreed. “And luckily, we only have one competitor. But it’s not over till it’s over.”

“Such optimism,” Joseph said dryly.

“I am optimistic. Just cautious.”

“That’s why you’re so good at what you do.” A grin. “Glad I hired you.”

A corner of Neil’s mouth lifted and then turned into a full indulgent smile as Lina walked over to him with a plate of antipasto.

“Here, Uncle Neil.” Her eyes were twinkling as she handed him the plate. “Please eat something. Otherwise, you’ll pass out and Mom will never forgive us.”

Neil took the plate and gave Lina’s hand an affectionate pat. “Okay. But only because it came from you. Otherwise, I’d stare at my phone until my eyes crossed.”

As if on cue, his cell phone’s ringtone sounded.

He grabbed the phone, his index finger sliding the screen to accept in one fluid motion, after which the phone was at his ear. “Neil Donato.” A pause. “Yes, Ken, of course.” Neil walked over and handed the phone to Joseph, a broad smile splitting his normally serious face. “It’s your opponent,” he said.

Joseph rose from the sofa and took the phone. “Ken, hello.” A smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your graciousness. You ran a strong race.”

Lina was already jumping up and down, stifling her shriek of joy, when her father handed the phone back to Neil and said, “Ken just conceded the election.”

“Congratulations.” Neil clapped Joseph on the shoulder. “You’re now the official Republican candidate from our district. Every polling platform says you’ll run right over our Democratic contender. After that, you’re on your way to the United States House of Representatives.”

All chaos erupted at that point, with Donna and Lina flinging their arms around Joseph, practically knocking him back down onto the sofa, and Neil popping open a bottle of champagne, which had been nestled hopefully on ice.

Glasses were poured and passed around, and everyone lifted theirs high in the air.

“To Joseph,” Neil said. “May he take Congress by storm.”

Cheers and smiles greeted Neil’s toast, and the clinking sound of glasses was resounding.

“Hard to believe that such a small crowd can be so noisy,” Joseph teased. He pulled Donna to his one side and Lina to his other, and his expression transformed to one of grateful tenderness. “Thank you. I’m a lucky man. I love you all—even you, you slave driver,” he added, raising his glass to Neil.

“And we love you.” Donna gave him a resounding kiss. “You’re a fine man, Joseph Brando. You’re going to do great things for our country.”

“Mom’s right.” Lina gave her father a huge hug. “And we’re the lucky ones. We have you.” A dubious look. “I’m not sure how I’m going to feel about sharing you with the country.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Neil admonished her with that same indulgent grin.

“Okay, I’ll try, but only because I’m such an awesome daughter.” Lina leaned around her father to grab her mother’s arm. “The party,” she reminded her. “We’ve got to finalize details.”

“Now?” Neil stared.

“Did you expect our nonstop Lina to adhere to the dreaded word wait?” Joseph asked, completely unsurprised.

“You’re right,” Neil replied, listening as Lina began sharing specifics with her mother. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Offices of Forensic Instincts

The brownstone was quiet, which suited Ryan just fine. Downstairs in his lair, he needed solitude and mental concentration.

“There is late-breaking confirmation that Joseph Brando was the victor of today’s Republican primary and that he’s proceeding with his quest for a seat in the United States House of Representatives,” Yoda announced.

“Good and bad,” Ryan murmured, hunched over his work. “Good because we can go to the victory party and do our thing. Bad because I have to wear a suit. But not a surprise. The guy was leading by a mile.”

“I have a vast number of videos showing the proper knotting of a tie,” Yoda informed him. “There is one on YouTube that is especially exacting.”