“The name?”

“Jon Childs.”

Gabriel nodded as if making a mental note. Chandler eased back in his chair, chortling to himself, and I realized he wasn’t a sociopath at all. That would imply an inability to recognize ethical boundaries. This was a man who recognized such lines and delighted in pulling others over them, because it proved they were no better than him.

I knew Gabriel didn’t have any intention of killing Jon Childs. There were a dozen reasons why, starting with the fact that he’s not an assassin and ending with the fact that he’d never play one for a guy like Chandler. But with the target’s name, we could track the man down and see why Chandler wanted him dead.

I let Chandler enjoy his amoral victory for about ten seconds. Then I leaned across the table. “People who do what you’re asking expect a down payment. I want an answer up front.”

“Nothing about your parents. I’m not that stupid.”

“What exactly did you do to piss off the Cwn Annwn?”

“I’m in here. They are not impressed.”

“Maybe. But you’re not a serious threat. You can’t unmask them. That’s like Scooby-Doo pulling off Mr. Wikles’s face and revealing a monster underneath. No one would believe you. There’s more to it. You seriously pissed them off. How?”

When Chandler didn’t answer, Gabriel said, “By targeting you, Olivia. The Cwn Annwn are courting you. They certainly don’t want you dead. Which explains Mr. Chandler’s eagerness to insist he was, in fact, not targeting you at all.”

Chandler’s hand flexed against the table.

“But there’s more,” I said. “The whole scheme to keep me from uncovering the truth about Pete’s and Jan’s deaths. Killing Will Evans and Josh Gray. That was personal, wasn’t it? Unsanctioned by the Cwn Annwn.”

“An unsanctioned use of their tool,” Gabriel said. “The mind control. You were using it for your own purposes, which is not permitted.”

Chandler glowered at us. “Why ask a question if you’re going to answer it yourselves?”

“Because it’s more fun that way,” I said. “All we need is for you to confirm it.”

“I’m not going to—”

“Your reaction already did. Not only did you use their drug without authorization, but you attempted to use it against me. No wonder they’re pissed.”

“We are indeed.” The guard—Ransom—had appeared at Chandler’s back.

When Chandler tried to scramble up, Ransom put a hand on his shoulder. It seemed a gentle touch, but Chandler’s face convulsed in pain.

I started to rise. Gabriel gripped my arm, and his touch may have been as light as the guard’s seemed, but the look in his eyes was rock hard. I followed his gaze to see the other guard and the video cameras trained around the room. Gabriel’s meaning was clear. We are in a jail. With armed security. Who will not hesitate to act if we seem to be interfering with a guard.

Ransom bent to Chandler’s ear. “Do you hear the hounds, Edgar?”

Chandler gave a jerky nod. “I—I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I’ll make amends. I’m doing that right now.”

“He is,” I cut in. “Let him make amends. Please.”

The guard didn’t appear to be more than thirty, but when he turned his gaze on me, I saw someone much older. “I’d be concerned about your sentimentality if I didn’t know you were only pleading for his life because it benefits you. Edgar here is a genius. But that does not mean we consider him an ally or that we don’t feel the need to bathe in bleach after dealing with him.”

Chandler made a noise that might have been a protest but came out as a terrified bleat.

Ransom continued. “He is a self-absorbed, egotistic maniac, Olivia. That means he lies. Consistently and pathologically. He will not tell you the truth. He will tell you whatever version of it best suits his needs. If you want answers, come to us. Only us. As for Chandler . . .” He leaned down to the man’s ear again. “You hear them coming, don’t you?”

Chandler’s head bobbed.

“Good. Then I need say no more.” He patted Chandler’s shoulder and looked at us. “Visiting time is over.”

—

On the way out, I hit the restroom. I couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but from the look Gabriel gave his watch when I exited, you’d think it had been hours. Waiting was one thing. Waiting without doing anything productive was quite another.

“You could have gone out to the car,” I said.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m in a prison. The only danger I face is that they might decide I should stay.”

As we passed through security, I recognized the man ahead of us. It was Ransom. When we reached the parking lot, he continued to the streets beyond.

“I’d like to follow,” I said. “See where he goes.”

CHAPTER SIX

The neighborhoods surrounding the jail were . . . well, pretty much what you’d expect for neighborhoods surrounding a jail. There were good areas in East Garfield Park, but they didn’t extend to the doorstep of the nation’s biggest prison. Still, it wasn’t such a bad neighborhood that we looked out of place. Ransom stuck to the sidewalk, moving at a purposeful stride down one street after another.

“Where the hell is he going?” I muttered. “I’ve seen them vanish, so why not just walk into the guards’ change room and never come out? Do you think he knows we’re tailing him?”