When I finally tracked her and Peter down the previous night, they were at a campsite in the Laurentian Mountains with their four younger daughters. It was Peter’s secretary in Kansas City who got me the relevant phone numbers and arranged for the corporate jet to fly into Quebec City to pick up the family. Peter and Rachel drove all night to get to the airport. Ashland Meat’s jet dropped Rachel and Peter at O’Hare and went on to Kansas City with the other daughters, where they would stay with Rachel’s mother.

“Petra was pretty nervous the last few days,” I said to Rachel. “She said nothing was bothering her, but I’m thinking now maybe this was weighing on her, this plan to let these thugs into my office.”

“Damn you,” Peter roared. “Petra does not know thugs. You do. You’re the one fucking around with the Anacondas, going out to Stateville to see Johnny Merton behind bars.”

“How do you know about Merton?” I was startled.

Rachel gave a strained, apologetic smile. “Petra and I talk every day, sometimes three times a day. She told us about your meetings with this man in prison. It was interesting news to her.”

“And I heard about it from Harvey, too,” Peter snapped. “He says Vic here disobeyed a direct order from a local judge to stop looking into the affairs of these old gangbangers.”

If I hadn’t been so distraught myself, I would have laughed. “Disobeyed a direct order? I’m not in the Army, Peter. That judge used to be my boss at the PD. He’s afraid I’m going to make him look bad because he did a terrible job on an old case involving one of Johnny Merton’s street soldiers.”

“So what if he did? One less gang member on the street for any reason is all to the good.”

“But, Vic, how can you be sure it was Petra in your office last night?” Rachel said.

She’d asked the question before, but she was so worried she kept forgetting the answer. I explained again about finding her daughter’s bracelet outside the back door.