“St. Aristarchus.” Ridley stepped off the stoop and onto the sidewalk in front of me. I had to put my head back to see his face. It was like looking up at a brick wall. Jesse, who’d kept silent all this time, put his hand on Ridley’s arm. Ridley shoved him away without even a glance, sending Jesse sprawling on the sidewalk. “Are you mad about the fire?” he asked.

“I’m glad no one was hurt,” I said.

Ridley’s expression shifted. “That’s what Claudia said.” He put his arms around me in a hug that pushed the air out of my lungs. When he let go, I almost lost my footing. “Bye, Lily.” He turned and lumbered away from us along Rivington. The groups of teens and young men on the street gave him a wide berth as he passed.

“That kid’s a chip off the old block,” said Jesse. My friend was beside me again, staring at Ridley’s wake. “Like monster like son.”

❖

Claudia’s apartment surrendered nothing new that night. The Crime Scene Unit had tried to put things back into some semblance of order, but the place was still a depressing wreck. Sometimes I thought about what it would be like to come back to live in New York, but I knew I’d never want to stay in this building again.

The encounter with Ridley forced me to tell Jesse about the fire at the church of St. Aristarchus, and the articles that Claudia had printed. “You mean Sklar burned down a house of God to put up some crappy hotel?” Jesse was a devout Southern Baptist. His voice betrayed an absolute certainty that Martin would roast in hell for eternity.

“He wasn’t in New York when it happened. There could be some explanation, maybe.”

“Sure, he hired some dope to do it for him. Lil, this guy is poison. How many times do I have to tell you before it sinks in?”

But I wasn’t thinking about that. I was hearing Martin’s voice from our evening at the flamenco bar. Has someone blackmailed you? I’d asked him. His answer had chilled me even then. A few have tried. They don’t get away with it, he’d said.

“Lil, what’s wrong? You’re white as a ghost.”

“Nothing,” I tried to say, but the word died on my lips. Was it possible that Ridley had told Claudia about the fire, and that she, in turn, had tried to blackmail Martin? My sister had stooped to many things, but I’d never known her to go as low as that. But if she had, what would Martin’s response be? I fumbled in my bag for my cell phone.

“Lil? Who are you calling?”