Half a year had passed since I'd spoken to Richard Doss, but nothing had changed about the way we interacted. No reason for it to be any different. Richard hadn't changed, that had never been his goal.

One of the first things he'd let me know was that he despised Mate. When Mate's murder had flashed on the tube, my initial thought had been: Richard went after him.

After hearing the details of the murder, I felt better. The butchery didn't seem like Richard's style. Though how sure of that could I be? Richard hadn't disclosed any more about himself than he'd wanted to.

In control, always in control. One of those people who crowds every room he enters. Maybe that had been part of what led his wife to seek out Eldon Mate.

• • •

The referral had come from a family-court judge I'd worked with named Judy Manitow. The message her clerk left was brief: a neighbor had died, leaving be- hind a seventeen-year-old daughter who could use some counseling.

I called back, hesitant. I take very few therapy cases, stay away from long-termers, and this didn't sound like a quickie. But I'd worked well with Judy Manitow. She was smart, if authoritarian, seemed to care about kids. I phoned her chambers and she picked up herself.

"Can't promise you it'll be brief," she admitted. "Though Stacy's always impressed me as a solid kid, no obvious problems. At least until now."

"How did her mother die?"

"Horribly. Lingering illness— severe deterioration. She was only forty-three."

"What kind of illness?"

"She was never really diagnosed, Alex. The actual cause of death was suicide. Her name was Joanne Doss. Maybe you read about her? It happened three months ago. She was one of Dr. Mate's . . . I guess you couldn't call her a patient. Whatever he calls them."

"Travelers," I said. "No, I didn't read about it."

"It wasn't much of a story," she said. "Back of the Westside supplement. Now that they don't prosecute Mate, guess he doesn't get prime coverage. I knew Joanne for a long time. Since we had our first babies. We did Mommy and Me together, preschool, the works. Went through it twice, had kids the same years. My Allison and her Eric, then Becky and Stacy. Becky and Stacy used to hang out. Sweet kid, she always seemed . . . grounded. So maybe she won't need long-term therapy, just a few sessions of grief work. You used to do that, right? Working on the cancer wards at Western Pediatrics?"

"Years ago," I said. "What I did there was mostly the reverse. Trying to help parents who'd lost kids. But sure, I've worked with all kinds of bereavement."

"Good," she said. "I just felt it was my duty because I know the family and Stacy seems to be a little depressed— how couldn't she be? I know you'll like her. And I do think you'll find the family interesting."

"Interesting," I said. "Scariest word in the English language."