Page 213 of Lethal Obsession

“If he doesn’t wake up after they stop the sedation,” he says in that same horribly empty voice, “then the chances are he never will.”

“Dr. Moretti also said it’s completely normal for that process to take anything from a few days to over a week,” I say reassuringly. “And she won’t make the decision to take him off sedation until after she’s run tests today.”

“It’s good of her to have stayed so long,” Darya says. “I understand she’s very much in demand.”

Benny and I exchange a glance, and to my relief, the ghost of his old smile crosses his face. “She’s certainly in demand by Juicy Jack Bellini.”

He breaks off a piece of brioche and puts it in his mouth, the first time I’ve seen him eat for days. “Not that I’m complaining. He can take her to watch the sunset from the hospital roof as many times as he likes, so long as it keeps her here and focused on Lars.”

“Jack turned up with an entire picnic two nights ago,” I add for Darya’s benefit, trying to keep Benny distracted for at least long enough that he gets some food down. “Antipasto platter, aperitivos, the whole thing. The nurses were still talking about it when we got there the next morning.”

“Juicy Jack, huh?” She looks between the two of us, smiling. “Do you two have nicknames for everyone?”

“For most people.” I pour Benny some orange juice, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Although please don’t ask me what he calls Papa—”

“DILF,” Benny interjects, prompting a cringing head shake from me and laughter from Darya. “Which he totally is,” he says in an aside to her, with a halfway decent impression of his habitual wickedness.

“What about Alexei?” Darya asks, putting another pastry on his plate when he isn’t looking.

“Pirate Boy,” Benny and I say in unison, which makes her laugh again.

“Oh,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “That’s so good.”

“Benny used to play the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song every time Alexei turned up somewhere,” I tell her. “Until Alexei worked out what was going on. I don’t think we ever worked one out for Mickey,” I go on hastily, aware of how close we are to the dangerous topic of Lars.

“Well, you didn’t.” Benny smirks, one of the most heartening sights I’ve seen for days.

“No!” I sit back in mock sulkiness. “Are you telling me that you and Lourdes nicknamed someone without me?”

“Trust me.” His smirk has an evil edge. “It is not a nickname you want to hear. Either of you.” He waves his fork between Darya and me.

Before I can press him, Masha’s high, clear voice comes from behind me. “They call him Mick the Di—”

“Masha!” Darya leaps up from the table, her face reddening, as I start to laugh.

Masha, her hair still mussed from sleep, slumps onto one of the chairs and yawns widely. “Well, they do,” she says. “Don’t you?” she says directly to Benny.

He shakes his head, grinning. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

She shrugs. “My flamenco teacher sometimes uses Lourdes to play guitarra for our classes, but she is very annoying, no, because she spends so much time on the movi, talking to Mickey or about Mickey. But now, she is gone, no?” She looks around as if just noticing Lourdes’s absence for the first time. “Why?”

“Lourdes and Mickey broke up,” I say gently. “She’s gone back to Granada.”

“Why?” Masha asks again, with her customary bluntness.

I’m still searching for some kind of excuse when Benny answers for me. “Lourdes didn’t know about your family business,” he says dryly.

I wince, exchanging a rather worried glance with Darya. But I should know my sister better than to imagine her unable to handle such directness.

“Ah.” Masha nods wisely. “Claro. I think it is better, then, that she is gone. Qué?” she says in answer to Darya’s frown, picking up a brioche. “Benny, he knows about our family, but still he is here, no? People either understand or they do not. Es lo que hay.” It is what it is.

We all stare at her bent head as she eats. “Es lo que hay,” Benny repeats. “I like that, Masha.”

“Por supuesto,” she says disdainfully. Of course. She looks surprised when we all laugh.

“It is what it is.” He takes a deep breath. “I think that is my motto today,” he says, giving me a strained smile as he pushes his unfinished breakfast away.

“Yes.” I meet Darya’s eyes across the table and see my own sudden chill pass like a shadow over her face, there and gone again before anyone has a chance to ask why.