Mark Del Franco - Face Off

Since waking, she had gone over the sequence of events until a pattern emerged, a pathetic pattern of twisted motives that had spiraled out of control. She saw it all, tying the threads together, surmising the obvious gaps. It was over, but it was a waste, and she wasn’t going to keep silent.

The macCullen residential floor bristled with Inverni security. The scene gave Laura a certain sense of irony, which she hoped would vanish in few minutes. At the conference suite, the brownie Davvi worked at a spare, organized desk. “Good morning, Agent Tate.”

She smiled. “Good morning, Davvi. I hope you can help me.”

“Yes, miss?”

“I need a copy of the security-shift change orders at Master macCullen’s residence from the day Cress was kidnapped. Would you have that?” she asked.

“Yes, miss,” he said.

Anticipation prickled up her spine. She had worked with Saffin long enough to know that brownies tried to follow their usual procedures even when they had to make exceptions to them. She waited, but he didn’t move. Although she was in no mood for Davvi’s literalness, his responses forced her to be more aware of her own language. “Davvi, please give me a copy.”

He opened a file drawer behind him. Without needing to search, he retrieved a sheet of paper and dropped it on a compact photocopier behind the desk. He held out the copy to Laura. When she took the end of it, he didn’t let go. Curious, Laura met his gaze. “Is there something wrong, Davvi?”

He pinched his lips, then blinked several times. “I am conflicted, Agent Tate. Master macCullen instructed me to respond to you as I would him. I may have erred with respect to this document and am uncertain of my duty.”

He released the photocopy. Laura glanced over the sheet, confirming her suspicion. “What is the error?”

Davvi clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head. “The Lord Guardian expressed fear of a security breach and asked that a copy of the order not be made. I understood his concern, but I had the utmost faith in my abilities to secure the document. Despite his instruction, I made the copy.”

“That’s an odd request for Terryn to make.”

“You mistake me, miss. The Master is not a Lord Guardian,” Davvi said.

She couldn’t prevent a small smile. “Yes, I’d forgotten. Which Lord Guardian asked you not to make the copy?”

“Lord Aran, miss,” he said.

His explanation satisfied her. It made her case all the stronger. “Thank you, Davvi.”

He sighed. “I fear I may have been responsible for the schedule error at the Master’s residence that resulted in the kidnapping of his concubine. I will accept whatever disciplinary measure the Master demands.”

Laura gaped. “What?”

“I may be responsible . . .”

Laughing, she held up her hand. “I’m sorry, Davvi. I wasn’t asking you to repeat. I was reacting to what you said. The last thing I expected today was to hear Cress referred to as a concubine.”

Davvi tilted his head. “Is it incorrect? I have researched but am at loss for a more accurate term that respects the Master’s life decision.”

“I’d run it by Terryn,” she said. She glanced at the door. “Are they all in there?”

“Yes, miss.”

She tugged at her jacket, inhaled deeply, and opened the door. The macCullens sat at a round table covered with paperwork. As one, they looked toward the door, Draigen with a neutral pleasant expression while Aran and Brinen were distracted. She suspected they had been arguing. Terryn, however, smiled.

“Lady Regent, I apologize for the intrusion,” Laura said.

“No apologies needed after what you accomplished, Agent Tate. I was hoping we could meet you before I leave. I want to extend my deepest thanks. I believe we all owe you our lives,” Draigen said.

Is Cress okay? she sent to Terryn.

I have her in seclusion. Whiting is hopeful for her recovery, he replied.

Laura bowed her head in acknowledgment. “I am not sure you will thank me when I leave here, Lady Regent. I’ll get right to the point. Last night happened because of the people in this room. You are to blame. All of you.”

The statement had the reaction she expected. The macCullens stared at her, suspicious and calculating, except Terryn, who cocked his head as he waited for her to continue. She knew that look, a patient waiting for facts and explanation. He wasn’t going to like it.

She started with Draigen. “Lady Regent, your life was not in danger until last night. Legacy did target you as part of its broader plan to assassinate high-profile fey, but you were never their sole target.”

“What in hell are you talking about?” Aran asked.

From her jacket, she produced a folder and data drives. “The assassination attempt was a well-planned and -executed ruse. This documentation shows that funds were transferred into offshore accounts to Sean Carr and Uma macGrath prior to the shooting incident. The funds were traceable to a shadow account in Wales originally set up as a secret fund in case the Seelie Court moved against the Inverni.”

“I knew nothing of this account,” Draigen said.

Laura was surprised that she was telling the truth, but her ignorance didn’t matter on the point. “Your father set it up or, should I say, had it set up. Our sources indicate only two people had access to that account. Your father was one. Brinen macCullen is the other.”

Brinen glowered at her. “I have no idea what you are talking about, and I don’t like what you are implying.”

Laura ignored him and slid one of the data drives to the center of the table. “MacGrath was paid significantly more than Carr, which confused me since Carr was more criminally exposed as the shooter and had the greater risk. Autopsy results demonstrate conclusively that macGrath killed Carr, presumably to silence him, and thus received a bonus. On the day of the assassination attempt, video surveillance shows that Brinen reacted to the shots prior to the actual firing at Draigen. The only explanation is that he knew the shot was coming. Uma macGrath is clearly visible in the surveillance then, reacting to Brinen’s injury.”

“I will not hear . . .” Brinen began.

Draigen glanced up at him. “Let her finish, brother. I shall be the judge of her words.”

Laura sensed the emotion roiling off him but refused to be intimidated into activating her body shield. “I examined macGrath’s body. The residue of essence signatures on her indicated she had not been in proximity to anyone from the time of the shooting until her death. All except one person: Brinen macCullen.”

Brinen shot to his feet. “I examined her body at the murder scene. You were there.”

Terryn’s quiet, firm voice cut through the shout. “Sit down, Brin.”

Laura clasped her hands behind her back. “Which is why I dismissed your essence at first. MacGrath was in a binding spell before she died. Someone had to get close to her to do that, and the only person whom she would let close after the assassination attempt was someone she trusted. That person would have left a strong body signature residue on her. The only strong signature on her was yours, Brinen. The logical conclusion is that you anticipated the issue and acted accordingly at her murder scene to camouflage the essence left behind in the shock that killed her.”

Brinen glared. “Quite fanciful. Pray, do shout this to the world. We will bring the entire Inverni clan down on you.”

Aran glared across the table. “Perhaps not the entire clan.”

Brinen scoffed. “What this . . . person . . . fails to realize is that you have access to the clan accounts, and our father was more likely to share such a ridiculous plan with you.”