“You might add, but I might not listen.” Lila snatched up the bugs she had laid on her sister’s bike earlier that morning. She slipped them into her pocket before the commander could close the distance between them.
“I don’t care if you are my superior officer. It’s my job to protect the heirs. All of them. Your life matters more, chief, whether you like the implications or not.”
“I don’t. I shouldn’t matter more than anyone else on this estate.”
“That’s two different statements. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter, but it does.” Sutton held up her hand to stop Lila’s expected rebuttal. “I also don’t want to explain to the prime minister how I allowed his eldest daughter to die in such a trivial manner.”
“He wouldn’t blame you.”
“You obviously have never been a parent.” The commander snorted. As the pair walked down a flower-strewn path toward the great house, Sutton filled her in on the morning’s meeting.
“So nothing out of the ordinary?” Lila asked after she finished.
“Boringly so.”
“Good. That’s how I like it. Thanks for filling in.” They stopped at the front entrance of Villanueva House. “I’ll
be working from home for the rest of the afternoon, commander.”
“As you wish, chief.” Sutton bowed, then stepped onto Villanueva Lane and marched back toward the security office.
Lila messaged the same to Sergeant Jenkins on her palm and stepped inside the great house. She didn’t waste much time on her work after she returned to her room. She handled the few things that could not wait, then tossed the rest aside, paging Isabel to bring her lunch.
Using her web of proxies and fake logins, Lila broke into BullNet once more and accessed the militia’s employment records. It didn’t take long to bring up Muller’s file. He was a below-average cop who had never been part of a high-profile bust until the raid on Club 137. Davies was much younger, a rookie, but had already marred his career by wrecking a militia truck after a few beers at lunch the year before. He had been suspended without pay for a week while Bullstow sorted out what to do with him. Though he hadn’t lost his job, he had been required to attend counseling for his drinking habit.
She ignored the notes from his time in therapy. It would likely all be lies.
Their biannual evaluations didn’t offer much help, either. Both men had been cited for a slew of infractions: poor recordkeeping, tardiness, apathy, and aggression. They’d barely kept their jobs, and had both been tagged for new partners and new assignments in the hopes that they could be retrained.
Their parentage was far more interesting than their biannual reviews. Muller’s aunt was Chairwoman Weberly, whose family ran Weberly Memorial, Randolph General’s closest rival. Davies’s mother was Suji Park, an elite lowborn who had bought her son’s way into Bullstow at a very high price.
The act marked the first step into becoming highborn, and from what Lila knew of Ms. Park and her daughters, the family would likely make the transition as soon as the next highborn family fell. They certainly cleared more profit each year than the bottom quarter of highborn families in the state, and several of her sons and nephews had been elected into the Low Houses of New Bristol and Saxony.
If Simon’s allegations were true, Officer Davies might have ruined the family’s chances.
Lila sent a message to two of her spies, taking them off a few nonessential cases, and transferred them to Rossi’s Pub for the evening. Perhaps they’d find out something that wasn’t in the files, something useful. Bullstow militia didn’t speak freely to highborn heirs, much less to a chief, so there was precious little she had to gain by going to the bar herself.
Not unless she wanted a drink. That was about all she’d get.
That and fawning respect.
A knock sounded on the door.
Lila turned off her monitor. Isabel entered, balancing a plate of turkey and cheddar sandwiches and a kettle of tea. The young woman was twenty, with lush red hair, green eyes, a thick body, and a look of permanent annoyance that could only come from dealing with Jewel on a daily basis. She set the tray on the corner of Lila’s desk.
“Thank you, Isabel.”
“Will you join the family for dinner?”
“Probably.”
“I’ll tell Chef, madam.” Isabel dropped into a quick bow.
“I’m not to be disturbed for the remainder of the afternoon.”
The woman nodded and scampered back to the kitchens. Lila always had the impression that she made Isabel nervous. She’d never met Lila as a child. She’d come into Randolph possession several years ago as a slave, then stayed on after signing a servant’s contract. Lila couldn’t help but recall Tristan’s words, that she’d only stayed on because she was indoctrinated.
Lila knew it wasn’t true for Isabel. They’d done a lot for the young woman and her family. Besides, Isabel had fallen in love with the food—at least, that was what Chef claimed.