“You know why, Inspector,” Izar said, and Lenoir supposed that was true.
“They will not hold it against you.”
Izar shrugged. “Some of them will, but I don’t give a damn about that.” He looked down at Lenoir, his gaze smoldering with resentment. “It’s not them I blame.”
Lenoir understood. “Not everyone involved was Adali.”
“Most of them were.”
“Every race has its bad apples.”
“Not every race is judged by them.”
There was a stretch of silence. Then Lenoir said, “For what it is worth, Sergeant, I don’t think this case proved anything, except that desperate people will do anything to survive. Their methods might have been unusual, but we have seen far worse, and there was certainly nothing uniquely Adali about their motivations. The basic human formula is the same.”
Izar made no reply. Lenoir left the sergeant alone.
“Inspector,” someone called. Lenoir turned, and it was a struggle to keep the dismay from his face. Kody’s father was making his way over.
They had never met, but there was no mistaking him. Jess Kody was every bit as physically imposing as his son, with the same purposeful stride and quietly stubborn set to his jaw. His eyes lacked the fire of the sergeant’s gaze, but that might just have been age.
“Sir,” Lenoir said awkwardly, holding out his hand. “I am pleased to meet you.”
Kody shook his hand and nodded. For a moment, he did not say anything else; he just stood there, staring. Lenoir shifted uncomfortably. After what seemed like an eternity, Jess Kody cleared his throat and said, “I just wanted to thank you.”
Lenoir’s eyebrows flew up. “Thank me?”
“For everything you’re doing for my son.”
Instinctively, Lenoir glanced over to where Bran Kody was standing with Hardin’s family. The sergeant was looking over at his father, an expression of mild panic on his face, but he obviously did not dare to extract himself from the bereaved parents.
Lenoir had no idea what to say. He could not think of a single thing he had ever done for Bran Kody. His confusion must have shown, for Jess added, “I know he’s young to have made sergeant, and he has you to thank for that.”
“He has himself to thank. He is young, yes, but he is competent. He earned his place. I merely recommended him for promotion.”
Kody nodded. “Bran says you taught him everything he knows. He says you were the best.” Lenoir noted the past tense, and was surprised to discover that it bothered him. “He was so excited when he got assigned to you,” Kody’s father continued relentlessly. “A few years with you, he said, and he’d make inspector. Anyway, with everything that’s happened with Sergeant Hardin and all . . .” He glanced back over his shoulder at Hardin’s family. “Just makes me realize how proud we are of Bran.”
“And so you should be,” said a new voice, and Lendon Reck appeared at Lenoir’s side. He gripped Jess Kody’s hand in a firm handshake. “A fine hound, your son. Wish I had a hundred like him.”
Lenoir could have kissed the chief. He wanted nothing more than to end this conversation, to slink away unseen and not have to listen to sugary fantasies about how he was a mentor. He had never been a mentor, to Kody or anyone else.
“Kody is tough as nails,” Reck said. “Look at him, up and about after everything that’s happened. Gotta admire a hound like that. He’ll have my job someday.”
Jess Kody was trying not to look pleased. “Anyways,” he said gruffly, “I just wanted to say how grateful his mother and I are that he’s working with such good people.”
“And we’re grateful to you,” said Reck, “for raising the kind of man who makes such a fine contribution to this city.”
And I would be grateful to you both if you ceased this inane prattle before I vomit. Lenoir kept his expression carefully blank, lest it betray his thoughts. He could not help wondering how many times the chief had made this speech, to how many proud fathers. But it was new to Jess Kody, and he appreciated it. He gave Lenoir and the chief a final handshake before returning to his family and the Hardins.
Lenoir let out a long breath. “I’m glad you came when you did.”
“I could tell you were about ten seconds away from saying something stupid.” Reck fixed him with a stern expression. “By the sword, you look awful. It’s been almost a week. Have you even slept?”
“Not much,” Lenoir admitted. He would have thought his body would be accustomed to going without sleep by now, but without the distraction of Lady Zera’s salon, the hours felt longer, heavier. It was not that he avoided sleep, not anymore. He was no longer plagued by nightmares. But in their place was a vague anxiety that he could not identify, a constant buzz in his brain that kept him awake through the night. He felt restless. Adrift. For years, he had coasted through life without bothering to make choices, for he knew them to be meaningless. It was like window-shopping, looking through thick panes of glass at things he could never have. Now the glass was gone. Row upon row of possibilities was laid out before him, and it was subtly terrifying.
He had made one choice, however, and it felt like a first step. If he could take a second step, and another after that, he would find his way eventually. And this time, he knew where he wanted to go. It was a path he had abandoned a long time ago, thinking it an illusion. But he had been wrong. It had been there all this time, waiting for him.
“I have the warrant,” he told Reck, holding up the sheet of parchment.
Reck grunted and took it from him. He scanned the page with a frown. “This is damn stupid. You know that.”
“Feine had a man beaten nearly to death.”
“A lovers’ squabble. Hardly a menace to society. Anyway, you already made it clear that we’re onto him. He’ll think twice next time. That should be enough.”
“Are you ordering me to drop it?”
“I should. You’re going to cause yourself a world of shit, and me too. What exactly are you trying to prove, anyway?”
“Nothing.”
“Right. And while we’re on the subject of fool’s errands, I read your report. Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, Lenoir. You practically accused the Duke of Warrick outright.”
“Indeed? I seem to recall saying there was no evidence against him. Not yet, at any rate.”
Reck stepped forward until his nose was an inch from Lenoir’s, and he dropped his voice to a low growl. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’ve got enough crusaders in my kennel, Inspector. If I hear you’ve been harassing Warrick, it’ll be your job.”
Lenoir met his gaze unflinchingly. “Are you afraid of him, Chief?”
“Damn right, and so should you be. He could shut down the entire force. I’ve got a whole city to worry about. If that means I have to leave the high and mighty to their business, then that’s how it’s got to be.”
“For the greater good?” Lenoir asked wryly.
“Something like that, smart-ass.”
“And if I were to turn up irrefutable evidence against Warrick?”
Reck shook his head and swore under his breath. “Maybe that blow to your head was worse than you thought. Do I have to spell it out for you? Even if I let you bring him in, no magistrate in this country would prosecute him.”
“Perhaps.” Lenoir paused, shrugging. “But we are arguing over nothing, Chief. I have no evidence against Warrick in this case, and I doubt I ever will.”
Reck was no fool. He narrowed his eyes. “In this case?”
Lenoir only smiled. “As for this”—he held up the warrant—“I will deal with it first thing tomorrow.”
Reck sighed resignedly. “Take Innes, and maybe Izar too. In case His Lordship resists.”
“He will not. It would be unseemly. He will be haughty and disdainful all the way to his cell, I think.”