“No one he knew or loved was at risk back then. Only his own career. This time…you know how ugly this could have been for you if the media knew about you two.”

“I know. It’ll keep me up at night for a few weeks.”

“I won’t give your man any medals,” Mercedes said. “But I’ll tell you this: when I look for him in your cards, I don’t find this one.” She held up the Hierophant card, the High Priest. “He’s this one.” She held up the Emperor. “Authority. Wisdom. Experience. The strong father. The good father. And I see you with him.” She placed the Empress card next to the Emperor. “And I see this, too.” She laid down a card, a naked man and woman cavorting. The Lovers.

“Not for a while,” she said. “This case has killed my sex drive.”

“I give that about five minutes.”

“Hey.”

She held up the Lovers tarot card. “Don’t blame me. It’s in the cards.”

Laughing, Nora reached for the Emperor card.

“Can I tell you something crazy? My mom and I never—I mean never ever in my life—got along. Oil and water from birth. Anyway.” Nora swallowed, steadied herself with a breath. “After we found out about Father Murran and Melody, I wanted—” Nora slapped a hand over her mouth hard, silencing a sob that seemed to come from nowhere but in fact came from deep, deep in her heart. “I wanted my mom.” She laughed at herself, laughed at her crying, laughed at her stupid, useless wanting. Mercedes didn’t laugh. She waited. “My mom. Søren’s mom. Any mom. Why the fuck do mothers have to go and die five minutes before you figure out how much you need them?”

Mercedes reached out and put her hand over Nora’s.

“I’m a mom,” she said softly. “And it’s going to be all right.”

Chapter Forty-Six

Good Saturday. Cyrus and Paulina on his boat in Lake Pontchartrain. He wore khaki shorts, no shirt, enjoying the lake breeze in the late summer heat. Paulina had on her black bikini and lay on the deck on a yellow-striped beach towel.

He must have been quiet too long because Paulina stretched out her arm and wrapped her small, delicate hand over the top of his big bare foot.

“What’s on your mind, Daddy?”

“You. Always.”

“Oh, come on.” She smiled as he pushed her sunglasses up off her eyes.

“They knew the cop that shot me was dirty,” he said. “Had a file thick as a brick. Racial profiling. Police brutality. Harassment. They knew he was dangerous, and they let him keep his badge until he shot me. And they knew Ike was dangerous, and they let him keep his collar, let him around little girls even. This ever gonna end?”

“If it does end in this town, it’ll be thanks to men like you.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

The boat rocked gently under them, easy and steady. A breeze blew by, and it smelled like the ocean on a clear, cool day. He’d always loved it out here on the lake. He’d even taken Katherine out here on one of their only real dates. The other “dates” had been in her bedroom.