"That's General Bossy to you."

Twenty-Three.

On Friday morning, Grady found Sophie sitting on the floor in the living room sifting through a pile of doc.u.ments. When they'd gone to sleep the night before, she'd been tucked in at his side and dozing dreamily. He had no idea when she'd woken up, or why she'd stealthily climbed out of bed instead of waking him.

"What are you doing, sugar?"

"Thinking," Sophie said, glancing up. "Did I wake you?"

"I think the lack of you next to me is what woke me up," Grady said, running a hand through his tousled hair as he slipped down onto the carpeted floor with her. "Why are you up at this unG.o.dly hour?"

"I'm missing something," Sophie said. "When I'm missing something, I can't sleep. I need to find it."

Grady shifted himself, pushing her body forward from the chair she was leaning on to give himself room to slide into the opening behind her. He pulled her between his legs, his arms around her waist, and rested his head on her shoulder so he could watch her work. "Tell me what we're looking at."

"When I talked to James on Tuesday afternoon, he said the prost.i.tutes told him that the woman who killed Cole was supposed to pay him," Sophie said. "But what I didn't remember or maybe it just didn't click at the time was the other part of that. According to the prost.i.tutes, Cole said the money was supposed to be transferred into a bank account."

"Wouldn't that be the normal way of transacting business like this?"

"Yeah, but Cole Gordon was homeless," Sophie said. "How does he have a bank account?"

Grady was quiet, thoughtful. "That's a really good point. You're so smart."

Sophie smiled, shivering slightly as Grady kissed her exposed neck. "The question is, how do we find the bank account?"

"What good will finding the bank account do us now?"

Sophie shook her head. "It's a good thing you're pretty, because your mind doesn't always fire on all cylinders when your sleeping pattern is interrupted."

"It's a good thing you're pretty," Grady challenged. "Because I could find any number of women who wouldn't verbally abuse me to take your place. I get offers all of the time."

"Yeah, but they'll just want you for your body," Sophie said. "That would cheapen you."

"And what do you want me for?"

Sophie leaned back, kissing him deeply. "Everything."

Grady sighed, rubbing his thumb over her hip. "So, you were telling me why the bank account was important?"

"Oh, yeah," Sophie said, turning back to her doc.u.ments. "I'm thinking that there's no way anyone agreed to kill someone without getting at least half of the money up front. I mean, why do a job like that without getting a split of the funds? It's not like he could go to the cops if he was ripped off. Even someone who was mentally ill would have to realize that."

"That's actually a really good idea," Grady said. "How do we find the bank account?"

"Well, I managed to pull Cole's records from the VA over at the county," Sophie said. "I was hoping it would give me an idea."

"And?"

"Nothing."

"Can you call the bank?"

"Which bank?" Sophie asked. "Because if you know what bank he had an account at, that would be a great starting point."

Grady frowned. "I didn't think about that."

"I'm guessing his bank was one he could access if he needed to," Sophie said. "He was sticking close to Mount Clemens."

"And how many banks are represented in Mount Clemens?"

"Three."

"Well, that narrows the field down considerably," Grady said. "Just check those banks."

"And how do you suggest I do that? Do you think they're just going to give me what I want because I ask nicely?"

"Can't you do one of those FOI things?"

"The Freedom of Information Act is for public ent.i.ties and government," Sophie said. "Banks are private, and banking records are a mess to try and get access to."

"Oh. Right."

"I do have another idea," Sophie said.

Grady grinned. She always had another idea. "What's the idea?"

"You're not going to like it."

Grady's grin faded. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"I'm going to ask Peter for help."

Grady groaned. "You're going to ask your mobster foster father to dig into financials for you?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Grady shrugged, feeling helpless. "No ... but ... ."

"We have a ticking clock here," Sophie said. "James has managed to keep Mandy locked up for three straight days, but she's already going stir crazy, and I don't blame her. Don't ever try that s.h.i.t with me, by the way."

"Duly noted."

"We need information, and the information we need is not something we can get without a little help," Sophie said.

"And you think Peter can help you?"

"I think he's the only one who can help me," Sophie said.

Grady sighed, giving in. "Okay. Let's do it."

GRADY hadn't yet had the opportunity to visit Peter Marconi's home, even though he and Sophie had been together for almost eight months. The handful of times he'd seen the man, it had been at Sophie's much smaller split-level ranch. Grady preferred it that way.

Peter's home more of a mansion, really was located on the Lake St. Clair side of Lakesh.o.r.e Drive in the ritzy Grosse Pointe area. When they pulled in through the wrought-iron gates, Grady fixed Sophie with an incredulous look. "You lived here?"

"For several years," Sophie said. "It's homier than it looks."

"It's something," Grady said. "I don't even know what to say about it."

"Just compliment it," Sophie said. "He loves this place, and he's proud of it."

"And who are those guys?" Grady asked, pointing at the two men in suits both with noticeable bulges underneath their jackets. "Are those cousins?"

"Don't be cute," Sophie said. "They're security. If you're uncomfortable going in there, you can wait out here. I have no idea how long I'll be."

"I'm coming," Grady grumbled, pushing the door of his truck open. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

"Peter would never hurt me."

"Whatever," Grady muttered.

Peter Marconi, a red smoking jacket offsetting his graying hair, met them at the door. Grady had to swallow the urge to cough the word 'stereotype' into his hand when he caught sight of the man. Sophie greeted her foster father with a warm hug, while Grady opted to give him a stiff handshake.

"Mr. Hardy," Peter said, nodding. "I see you're still shadowing my Sophie."

"I'm trying," Grady said. "She's not easy to shadow sometimes. She doesn't like being smothered."

"She's a firecracker," Peter agreed, ushering them inside.

After a quick tour, which Peter insisted on, the three of them settled into his personal library. Peter sat in the chair behind his desk, while Sophie and Grady opted for seats on the other side.

"So, how can I help you?"

"I need financial information," Sophie said, catching Peter up on the past month of their lives as quickly as possible.

When she was done, Peter was thoughtful. "And you think this Cole Gordon will have a money transfer in an account?"

"I do," Sophie said. "We need to find it."

"Because you want to figure out who hired him," Peter said. "You're always thinking."

"The thing is, I can't access that information," Sophie said. "I'm sure the cops will at some point, or maybe I'm giving them too much credit, but I'm not working on their timetable. I don't think that Mandy has that much time."

"And you like this Mandy?"

"She's my friend," Sophie said. "She's ... she's like family."

"Okay," Peter said, not offering any argument. "Let's see what my man can find."

"I would start with the three banks in Mount Clemens," Sophie suggested. "He would want to stay close to the funds."

"Let me make a call."

TWO HOURS and one big lunch later, one of the men from the front door walked into the dining room and dropped a file onto the table next to Peter Marconi. Grady watched the exchange, which essentially amounted to Peter giving the man some sort of silent order which resulted in the guard leaving the room wordlessly.

"You've got them on a tight leash, huh?"

Sophie kicked Grady swiftly under the table. "Don't."

Grady rubbed his knee, never taking his eyes from Peter's face.

"There are different ways to run a business, son," Peter said. "I run mine in a specific manner. I'm sure you and your brothers have your own way of running a business. What works for you probably wouldn't work for me."

Peter flipped open the file, scanning the doc.u.ments inside. "Well, my dear, it seems you were right. I don't know why I even bother to doubt you anymore."

"Me either," Sophie teased. "What did he find?"

"Cole Gordon has an account at Fifth Third bank," Peter replied. "It was opened six years ago, and there's been minimal activity on the account for the bulk of that time."

"But?" Sophie prodded.

"Four weeks ago, there was a wire transfer into the account. It was one lump sum, and it was for twenty grand."

"That doesn't seem like a lot of money," Grady said. "I would think a hit would cost more than that."

"It depends on who you get to do the hit," Peter countered. "A professional costs much more. This was a homeless veteran with a specific knowledge base. Twenty thousand to him is going to seem like hitting the lottery."

"Plus, he was probably getting another twenty grand after the job was done," Sophie added. "He could have lived off of that money for years."

"Very true," Peter said.

"Does it say who transferred the money?" Grady asked.

Peter shook his head. "There's no name. A name isn't required for a financial transfer like this."

"c.r.a.p," Sophie said.

"There is, however, a location from where the money was transferred," Peter said. "And I think this location is probably going to be just what you need to lead you to a name."

"Why?" Grady asked.

"It's your hometown, son," Peter said, sliding the file across the table so Grady could look at it.