Dirty Work (Stone Barrington 9)

“There is a long tradition in my family, going back at least five hundred years, of service to one’s country.”

“No matter what one’s country asks one to do?”

“I have always been equal to what my country has asked of me.”

“That’s what worries me,” Stone said.

“That I’m a loyalist?”

“That, where your country is concerned, you’re capable of anything.”

She blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Marie-Thérèse’s parents weren’t killed by accident, were they?”

“I told you they were. I was there.”

“The target was her mother. Isn’t that true? Collateral damage didn’t matter.”

Carpenter set down her glass. “Who have you been talking to?”

“Someone who was there.”

“I am the only person still alive who was there.”

“No,” Stone said, “you’re not.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her face expressionless. “Good God,” she said softly.

Stone said nothing, just looked at her.

“I think you’d better stop lying to me,” he said finally. “It isn’t good for the relationship.”

“How did you find her?”

“I’m a good detective. The NYPD trained me well.”

“We can’t find her, but you could?”

“That seems to be the reality.”

“Did you meet her face to face?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t the face we saw at the Nineteenth Precinct. I don’t know how she changes, but she does.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

“It seemed to me more dangerous not to meet with her. She knew who I was and that I had played a part. . .”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. Where did you meet her?”

“In a bar. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, before she would talk to me, she insisted on paying me a retainer. I’m now her attorney.”

“That was very clever of her. Can you contact her again?”