Page 66 of Lies He Told Me

Kyle was wondering if that would be the direction Blairheaded. “So our official statement to the media? You want us to say that for now, all we know is that it appears to be a robbery gone wrong?”

“Exactly. The public would believe that. The owner of a restaurant, accosted at gunpoint as he’s closing up? Most people, their first thought would be a robbery.”

Kyle nods. “But you’re not worried about what the public thinks. You’re worried about what Michael Cagnina thinks.”

“Exactly.” Blair pushes himself out of the chair. “Silas Renfrow has been officially declared dead. The Bureau — we’re not looking for him. Nobody’s looking for him. Nobody’s been looking for him for the last decade and a half.”

“Except you,” says Kyle.

“Well — he’s crossed my mind from time to time,” Blair concedes. “Like, every single damn day of my life.”

This guy seems okay, Kyle thinks. He can’t imagine what it would feel like to have a case torture you for fifteen years.

“What’s Cagnina’s next move?” he asks Blair.

Blair runs his hand over his hair, paces around on that question. “He’s been low-key this whole time, right?”

“Definitely,” Kyle agrees. “Seems like he’s been sending messages to David with all the shit he was doing to their family.”

“Right, because he didn’t want to call attention. He wanted to be sure David was really Silas Renfrow before he made a move. He’s probably been watching him, baiting him, collecting information. Now he thinks he has his man. Thus the gunman tonight.”

“But he didn’t just shoot him in the head and leave,” Kyle notes.

“Right, that’s the weird part. So what’s his move now, Sergeant? Think like him.”

Think like Michael Cagnina? Kyle lets out a chuckle. “Special Agent —”

“Just call me Blair.”

“Okay, Blair — the most excitement we get around here are drug busts, maybe an occasional B and E. We don’t even have street gangs down here. I’m not sure I’m the guy to be reading the mind of a Chicago mobster —”

“Yeah, well, you were smart enough to come up with a pretty good theory about Silas Renfrow.”

Kyle nods. Thinks on it. “To know what Cagnina will do next, we need to know something we don’t know. Or at leastIdon’t know.”

“Which is?”

“What does Cagnina want?” Kyle says. “He could’ve easily shot and killed David tonight and walked away. But it didn’t look like that was the plan. So what the hell does he want?”

Blair wags his finger at him. “That’s the question, Sergeant. That’s the question.”

SIXTY-SEVEN

FRANCIS BLAIR PICKS UP the evidence bag, the sealed brown bag containing David Bowers’s clothes. “I’ll rush a DNA test on this,” he says. “In the meantime, no mention of the FBI, okay?”

“Got it,” Kyle says. “Not even to Marcie?”

Blair rubs his neck. He meant what he said— Kyle’s a smart guy. Putting together what he put together about Silas Renfrow and Michael Cagnina — that was good police work.

But Kyle’s not all the way there. He asked the question a moment ago:What does Cagnina want?Why didn’t he just kill David and walk away?

There’s an answer to that. But Kyle doesn’t know the answer.

Kyle doesn’t know about the money.

The real question is, does Marcie? Or did David keep it from her?

“What are your thoughts, Kyle? Is Marcie in on this with David or not?”

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