Starkey said, You think this is where he lives?

I don't know. Looks like it.

Maybe he's just dropping off the stuff.

Can you drive a stick?

What are you going to do?

I'm going to see. When I get out, get behind the wheel. Be ready to go.

The Lexus turned past the dark shoulder of a camellia bush, then lights flashed across a lawn. I got out, and ran hard to the camellia at the head of the drive. A small ARMED RESPONSE security patrol sign stood beside the bush. The garage was open, and bright with interior light. His sedan shared the garage with a silver Lexus SUV. Marx was lifting the box from his backseat when I reached the camellia. An interior door from the garage into the house was open, and a woman wearing black pants and a loose T-shirt was waiting at the door. She was a nice-looking woman about Marx's age, and interacted with him the way a wife would interact with her husband.

Marx placed the box on the trunk of his car, sat his briefcase on the box, then put the manila envelope on top of the briefcase. When the stack of goods was manageable, he carried the box into the house. The woman stepped to the side to let him pass, then touched a button on the wall. I wondered if she knew what was in the box. I wondered if she cared.

The light in the garage went off.

The door rumbled down.

Marx was home.

His secrets were with him.

I called Joe Pike.

Chapter 32

I SLIPPED into the shadows beneath a pepper tree, then made my way alongside Marx's house into his backyard. I took it slow, thinking there might be a dog or lights rigged to a motion sensor, but there was neither.

The backyard was lush and comfortable even at night, with a giant avocado tree spread over a patio. Fallen fruit littered the ground and filled the air with a pungent scent. The kitchen and what appeared to be a family room were on the garage side at the back of the house, and opened onto the patio. Marx had a very nice outdoor kitchen, with an enormous gas grill and a Big Green Egg smoker. The woman I took to be Marx's wife was in the kitchen. Marx entered the family room from the opposite side of the house, then disappeared through a door. He wasn't carrying the box or files or his briefcase, and no one else was visible inside the home.

Windows glowed with dim light on the far side of the house, so I moved past the patio. The first set of windows revealed a small bedroom that looked as if it hadn't been used in years. A bathroom came next, then the corner room. Marx was using the corner room as an office. The light was on. I moved closer to see if the box and files were in his office, but Marx came in before I reached the window. He went to his desk, looked down at something, then abruptly stepped into a closet. I couldn't see what was inside or what he did, but then he backed out, closed the door, and left his office. He turned out the light as he left.