“Mrs. Vargas?” Danny called again. “LAPD.”

Still no answer, and that set something off in Ellie—an uneasiness that made her move into the backyard so she could get a better look at the woman lying on the chaise longue.

Ellie had seen a lot of messed-up shit during her short time as a patrolwoman. What she was witnessing right now immediately shot to the number one slot: Sophia Vargas—and it was her, no question, the woman an identical match with her driver’s license photo—wearing a pair of earbuds, her eyes closed and her mouth open and her right hand, buried underneath the tight fabric of her black bikini bottom, moving up and down, up and down, like she was trying to coax a genie out of its bottle.

When Danny’s shadow passed over the woman’s face, she opened her eyes. She saw the blue uniform and swallowed—not in embarrassment but in pleasure.

“Wait,” she said to him. “I’m almost there.”

Ellie watched, thunderstruck. She could see the still-fresh IV puncture wound in the crook of her arm, the wound bleeding, she was sure, from a recent transfusion.

“Ma’am,” Danny said, “I need you to stop masturbating.”

Sophia Vargas ignored him. She kept going, moving her finger even faster, trying to climax, not stopping or slowing down even when Danny leaned forward and yanked out her earbuds. Ellie had been told one of the side effects of blooding, at least in the initial hours after a transfusion, was a heightened sex drive, but she had never seen anything like this before.

Sophia Vargas arched her back. Her limbs stiffened and she cried out in pleasure.

Danny’s face was as red as an apple. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “What happened to your arm?”

The woman didn’t respond. She relaxed back against the chaise longue, trying to catch her breath.

Again Ellie glanced at the house—all clear downstairs, from what she could see—and then she looked back at the kid, who was sitting with his forearms on his knees and acting like what was unfolding here in the backyard was no big deal. Like he couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. He was way too young to administer a transfusion all by himself, but had he assisted someone? Was that person, maybe even group of people, hunkered down inside the house at this very moment?

Ellie had never heard of blooding being performed in someone’s home, but then again, this was Los Angeles, where if you were rich enough and willing to pay the price you could get anything you wanted, anytime.

“What happened to your arm, Mrs. Vargas?” Danny asked again.

“I gave blood,” the woman replied between breaths. “This morning.”

“Where?”

She licked her lips. Smiled. “One of those Red Cross mobile things.”

Bullshit, Ellie wanted to say. And why was Danny bothering with the whole Q & A dance? He had more than enough probable cause to arrest the woman on suspicion of receiving carrier blood.