Chapter 8: The Offer

"No," I said.

Fitzgerald tilted his head.

"You haven't heard the salary."

"I don't need to."

The terrace door banged open and Tobias came through it.

Behind him, a dozen guests had drifted to the glass to watch. Somebody's phone was up.

"Mr. Fitzgerald," Tobias said. "Step back from my officer."

"Your officer." Fitzgerald laughed. "She's a recruit with a borrowed uniform and a family that pretends she's dead."

He didn't step back.

Tobias stepped in until they were chest to chest.

"Three feet," Tobias said. "I've been told to put you on the floor if you get closer. I'd enjoy it."

For a second, nobody moved.

Then Fitzgerald lifted his glass an inch, a small salute, and took one step back.

"Fine," he said. He looked past Tobias, at me. "When you get tired of standing at walls, ask your mother about the chandelier."

He walked back inside.

The guests at the glass stepped aside to let him through.

The chandelier.

The photograph from the ceiling.

"What did he mean?" Tobias said.

"I don't know yet."

I didn't try to read Fitzgerald as he left. I didn't need to.

I was listening for somebody else.

Across the ballroom, Audra had slipped away from my mother's table.

She was moving toward the service door behind the quartet.

"Stay here," I told Tobias.

"Absolutely not."

"Please. Give me one minute. If I'm not back, come find me."

I went through the side door and along the back corridor where the waiters ran with trays.

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