The thick mahogany door swung open before either of us could ring the bell revealing a solemn-looking man dressed in black. His features echoed Luciana’s, but he was slightly younger, his skin a darker shade of brown, and his hair liberally salted with grey. Julian Cabera, Luciana’s younger brother.
“We’ve been expecting you,” he said.
“My deepest condolences,” Alessandro said, his face broadcasting sincerity.
“Thank you.” He held out his hand toward the house. “Please.”
The interior of the house was a warm shade of white, complementing the travertine floor. We followed Julian left, through a thick archway past a luxurious powder room into a study paneled in rich, warm walnut. Built-in bookcases lined the walls between large arched windows. A vintage Moroccan rug decorated the dark brown floor. At the far end of the room, an elegant desk stood, the chair behind it glaringly empty. On the left a large fireplace took up half of the wall, and in the center of the room four people sat on the plush beige sofas and overstuffed chairs arranged around a coffee table.
Agent Wahl and a woman in a beige suit sat facing the fireplace. The woman was about his age, with tawny, warm skin, shoulder-length brown hair pushed behind her ear on the left side, and brown eyes. A tiny transparent plastic tube protruded from her ear, barely visible. A hearing aid. As far as I knew, the FBI had strict medical requirements. An agent with hearing loss had to be exceptional to be admitted.
Across from the two FBI agents, an older man and a young woman sat on the other sofa, both in black. The man looked like an older version of Julian: same nose, same mouth, same worried look in his eyes, but with a longer, leaner build. His hair, cropped short, had gone grey. Elias Cabera.
Next to him, Kaylee Cabera sat rigid, her spine perfectly straight. She was slender, with a heart-shaped face, large eyes under strong eyebrows, and full lips. Her skin was the same warm brown shade as her mother’s, but she’d bleached her hair to champagne blond, a beautiful color with multi-tonal highlights that looked perfectly natural. The hair framed her face in loose waves. She’d taken the time to style it. She’d also put on makeup, not just a brush of mascara, but her entire face complete with deep plum lipstick that looked almost mahogany on her lips. It could’ve meant any number of things, but her eyes told me exactly what it was—defiance. Kaylee Cabera refused to be broken, and she dared anyone to try her.
Everyone except Kaylee rose as we walked in. Kaylee glanced up and saw Alessandro. Her eyes widened. For a second, she forgot to look angry and just stared.
Yes, I know exactly what that feels like.
Wahl’s eyes narrowed. The female FBI agent next to him glanced at Kaylee, then at Alessandro. They’d read the room.
“My deepest apologies,” Alessandro murmured, his Italian accent light and refined. “We arrived as soon as we could.”
“You’re just in time,” Wahl assured him. He turned to the family. “This is Alessandro Sagredo, Prime antistasi, and Catalina Baylor of House Baylor. They will be consulting on this case due to its sensitive nature. Just to remind everyone, I am Agent Wahl, and this is Agent Garcia. Once again, this interview is being recorded.”
“Please, sit down,” Elias invited.
We sat in two overstuffed chairs. Alessandro was on my left, closer to Elias and Kaylee. She was still looking at him, and she had adjusted her pose, resting her right arm on the sofa arm to open up her body, crossing her legs, and presenting him with a flattering angle. I might have been invisible. Perfect. I sent the tendrils of my magic forward ever so gently.
Agent Wahl launched into the standard list of questions. Did Luciana have any enemies? Did she have romantic partners? What was her relationship with everyone present? Were there any recent difficulties?
Elias had taken the lead on answering. Kaylee answered only when directly spoken to and every time she opened her mouth, Alessandro offered her an encouraging smile.
My magic had skimmed the surface of Elias’ mind. He didn’t notice. He felt like a typical halcyon. Halcyons were crowd control mages. Like me, they couldn’t afford to allow magic leakage, so they kept an iron grip on their emotions, accreting a mental shield that encased their psyche. Their minds appeared opaque and hard, almost like pearls inside an oyster’s shell.
Nothing unexpected here. I moved on to Julian.
My phone vibrated. I glanced at it. A video call from Patricia.
“Excuse me,” I murmured, getting up.
Everyone ignored me.
I walked into the hallway and took the call. The view from a bodycam filled the screen, showing a slight, thin-looking white man in his midforties. He wore dark clothes and hunched over a little, as if expecting a punch on the shoulder. Four guards surrounded him.