“JD, SR, BS…The missing guys are Jaz and Sonny. The dead girl is Bianca. Maybe a coincidence, but something tells me if I press FE I’m going to wake up Hope.”

“I suspect so.”

With that one call we could almost certainly identify the young man. But if I woke Hope to send her pictures of a dead comrade—after the night she’d had—I could safely wipe Karl’s name off my contact list.

I’d have the team run prints, photos and DNA of the victim against Cabal records. I was certain my father would catalogue such information. The completeness of those records was another matter—the gang members were a transitory lot.

My phone rang.

“Mr. Cortez? It’s Tyson, at the hospital? Guarding Troy’s room? You saw me there earlier?”

Ah, one of the silent guards. The inflections on his sentences told me this was a call he’d rather not be making and I braced myself.

“Troy’s awake, sir.”

I let out a silent sigh of relief. “How is he?”

“He, uh, seems fine, sir. He’s, uh, asking me to—Well, I know you’re busy, and he might be…” A lowering of his voice. “A bit confused.”

The rumble of a voice came from the background.

“He, uh, wants me to ask you to…That is, if you think you should…”

The rumble grew, becoming Troy’s voice, still too distant to be intelligible.

“I’m sure you have enough to worry about, sir, but he’s concerned that—”

“Give me the fucking phone,” I heard Troy rasp.

“He thinks you—”

“Give me the fucking phone, Tyson, or I’ll be dead before you spit out the goddamned message.”

“Better give it to him.”

A hiss as the phone changed hands.

“Lucas.”

“How are—?”

“Later. We’ve got a bigger problem. It was Carlos.”

“Carlos…?”

“Who shot me. He came to the house, alone, wanting to talk to your dad, and I knew something was hinky, so I went to talk to him…” A soft grunt of discomfort. “Point is, it was Carlos. I woke up a while ago, but I’ve been playing possum, waiting for you to come back so I could tell you. I knew if I opened my eyes, the first thing your dad would ask was who shot me, and I sure as hell wasn’t telling him.”

“Good. I appreci—”

“Not so fast. He got a call that Carlos was at headquarters. I waited until he left, then asked Tyson to call you. I told him what to say, about Carlos. Then…”

His voice drifted off.

“Troy?”

“Your dad wasn’t gone. He could probably tell I was faking it and hung around outside my door waiting to hear what I was hiding.” He paused. “He knows it was Carlos, Lucas. And when he left here…” Another pause. “You need to get there before he does something he’ll regret.”