When I finished outlining their assignments, the men looked at one another.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“No, sir,” the leader—Carpaccio—replied in a tone that belied his denial.

I pushed back a stab of impatience. “Two of my brothers are dead. The third is missing and may be in the same danger. If you have a better idea for finding him, please say so.”

The youngest—a half-demon named Pratt—spoke up. “Carlos—I mean, Mr. Cortez—”

“His given name is fine tonight, for clarity.” The Cabal tradition on referring to all men of the inner family as “Mr. Cortez” was a ridiculously confusing conceit that annoyed me at the best of times.

“Well, Carlos, sir, he’s never at the office past seven.”

“Yes, I know. My brother isn’t known for putting in overtime.”

I realized the men were wondering why I was sending them to check two places where Carlos shouldn’t be—the office and my father’s home.

Paige took over to explain that, with men already checking places Carlos was known to frequent, plus the indisputable evidence that he’d been at Hector’s earlier, it was not inconceivable that he’d also visited my father or gone to the office to see William. If he hadn’t, there was no harm in reviewing the tapes and access logs, as it would need to be done for the investigation anyway. The men seemed to accept that, and left.

When they were gone, Griffin said, “You think Carlos killed them, don’t you?”

I hesitated, then said, carefully, “I’m not ruling out the possibility.”

Griffin nodded, seeming neither shocked nor skeptical.

I continued. “I don’t want anyone except us to know that’s what I suspect, which, coupled with the fact that the staff is unaccustomed to taking orders from me, could make this difficult. I would appreciate any help you can give.”

“I’ll back you up, but I’m not sure how much good it will do. If it was Troy…” The words drifted off and he shrugged. “They listen to Troy because they like him. They listen to me because I scare them. Together, it works great. Separate…” Again he let the sentence fade, as if realizing that the situation might not be temporary. “I’ll do my best.”

I DECIDED, SOMEWHAT belatedly, that we ought to join the search of Carlos’s apartment. There might be clues to the crime, and the search team wouldn’t know to look for them.

We returned to the car, which was no longer our inconspicuous rental but, at my father’s insistence, a massive bulletproof, spell-proof, black SUV. On any covert mission, we’d have to park blocks from the destination and walk—which, to me, obliterated the safety value.

I was opening Paige’s door when my cell phone rang.

“Mr. Cortez, sir? It’s central security. Our switchboard just received a call from your brother.”