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his office.
    She repeated the details of her conversation with Andy earlier in her mind, trying to decide what her course of action should be.
    Or even if there should be a course of action.
    It was true that Andy was hamstrung by his oath of confidentiality. But what about her obligations? Although Rick Carlisle had unburdened himself to Andy during his psychotherapy sessions, Rick hadn’t entirely believed in the incriminating allegations his source had made.
    Unlike New York, where several crime families vied for control, the Chicago Outfit had long held sole control and monopoly on organized crime in the Midwest. The Outfit still remained draped in mystery and shadow. Despite the FBI’s increased efforts to infiltrate and break the legs out from under the powerful, widespread criminal organization, so many things still remained secret, including the identity of the top man.
    Rick Carlisle had been part of the force that was chipping away at the power of the Outfit. His award-winning investigative reports for the Chicago Tribune had given the FBI important fuel for the arrests of fourteen key members of Chicago organized crime. During the trial, federal prosecutors were able to strike a serious blow against the criminal s yndicate, sending multiple Outfit members to prison. However, corruption among federal officials remained problematic, and the ability to identify and prosecute the top boss and completely cripple the crime syndicate remained out of the FBI’s and other federal investigators’ reach.
    But the FBI was gaining ground. They’d recently stated that they’d soon be announcing an indictment against Joseph Carlisle for tax evasion and money laundering; although rumor had it he was guilty of much, much more. Word on the street had it that Joseph Carlisle was the top man of the Outfit. There was little doubt that the mob felt the law watching their every move, waiting for a slipup.
    It was under this tension-filled environment that Rick Carlisle had recently procured a journalistic source, an individual who had been a small-time criminal in the Chicago crime syndicate for decades, a man that went by the name of Bernard Cokey. A high-ranking soldier in the Outfit had owned a restaurant where Cokey had worked as a cook. Cokey’s position was such that other mobsters came to think of him as part of the woodwork; they didn’t trust Cokey so much as consider him insignificant.
    In this environment, Cokey had collected quite a cache of valuable insider information. He was now retired, and somewhat bitter at the way his higher-ups had always treated him like a harmless mascot.
    Rick had written a number of award-winning articles on organized crime under his journalistic pseudonym, Joshua Malenic. When he decided to write his latest book, he’d chosen to focus on the most famous crime syndicate in his hometown of Chicago. Cokey had agreed to provide Rick with anonymous information.
    A dazed and disoriented Rick Carlisle had told Andy during a psychotherapy session several weeks ago that Cokey had given him the elusive name of the Outfit’s boss. Much to Rick’s disbelief, Cokey had indicated that his own father and Thomas’s adoptive father—Joseph Carlisle—was the top man.
    Rick hadn’t been convinced of his source’s honesty. He’d certainly never indicated to Andy Lancaster that he believed he was in danger.
    And there was always the possibility that Rick had good reason to feel safe, Sophie thought. Joseph Carlisle might be innocent. It might be just as the police said: Rick Carlisle’s and his son’s death might have just been a tragic, freak accident.
    Sophie found herself chewing on her nails again and made a disgusted sound. She stood and began pacing next to her desk. The fact of the matter was the circumstances had left her in the singular, uncomfortable position of having slept with a man she knew a hell of a lot about, unbeknownst to him. And she had a feeling Thomas Nicasio was not only ill