“He thought I was going to die, so he explained how he’s connected to you. He told me he hired two frogmen to hold your son Joe under water until he drowned.”

Brennan jumped. “He told you that?”

“I said, DiBennedetti thought I was going to die.”

Brennan studied him. Did Devlin see curiosity—or did Brennan perceive a threat? “Did he want you dead?”

“He had no choice. I tied a gun used to kill two people on New York Boulevard to DiBennedetti’s nephew. It’s a long story.”

“But you’re alive!” Brennan exclaimed. “DiBennedetti thought you’d be dead!”

Brennan knew DiBennedetti, no doubt about it. “Lighter eleven grand, too.”

“Fuck your eleven grand. What did this—DiBennedetti tell you about Joe?”

Now the hitch in his voice. This was acting: he was trying to back away from the name. Too late. Devlin had him tight. Time to turn the screw. “They planned it for months. The swimmers were Italian, over for the job and then home again. Their boat was a mile east of your place. They swam the rest of the way, staying a quarter to a half mile offshore. They had to wait twenty minutes for Joe to get out there. Two very strong guys. Joe didn’t see them. He wasn’t looking for anybody out in the ocean. They went under and waited for him to come by over them. When he passed, doing the crawl, they grabbed his ankles and allowed themselves to sink like dead weight. He fought. They were wearing wet suits. He couldn’t grab them so it hurt. Before he quit struggling, Joe was pounding on their tanks. They watched his face. DiBennedetti wanted a report on that.” The best part of telling the story, as far as DiBennedetti had been concerned, Devlin remembered, the look on Joe’s face with water rushing into his lungs.

Brennan gritted his teeth. He looked gray—drained. Good.

“You knew,” Devlin said.

“What?”

“You knew in advance. You were told.”

“Is this what DiBennedetti said? When? When was this, when I got told?”

“A long time ago. And several times more, over the years. DiBennedetti would call you every couple of years. Maybe he’d let it go five years, so you’d think he forgot. There was nothing you could do about it. He was as powerful as you, with the same powerful friends. Besides, you’d have to tell somebody why he was after you.”

“Shit. All shit. I don’t want my wife upset by this crap, do you understand? She’s suffered enough for a hundred women—a thousand.” Now he didn’t look toward the fantail as he had before. What was going on between Charlotte and him?