“No pressure, just think about it,” I said.

“It’s a lot to digest.”

“You’re a tough kid.”

“Like hell.” Pressing her flank to mine, she laced her fingers and placed them over her belly.

I drew the covers over us.

“That’s better, thanks,” she said.

Neither of us moved.

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 26

Once I’m roused, I’m restless for hours.

As Robin slept, I prowled the house. Ended up in my office and composed a mental list. Switched to a written list.

First thing tomorrow I’d contact Erica Weiss and tell her about Hauser. More ammunition for her civil suit. If Hauser’s control was that loose, mounting legal problems might not stop him from harassing me. Or getting litigious himself.

This whole mess could cost me. I tried to convince myself it was the price of doing business.

Must be nice to be that serene.

Replaying the scene at the restaurant, I wondered how Hauser had lasted this long as a therapist. Maybe the smart thing would be filing a preemptive suit against him. Officers Hendricks and Minette had appeared to see things my way, so a police report would help. But you never knew.

Milo would know what to do but he had other things on his mind.

So did I.

My offer to Robin spilling out like Pentothal chatter. If she said yes, would that constitute a happy ending?

So many what-ifs.

Milo said, “I was just about to call you.”

“Kismet.”

“You don’t want this type of kismet.” He told me why.

I said, “I’ll be right over.”

* * *

The note I left on the nightstand read:

Dear R, Had to go out, a bit of the ugly stuff. Stay as long as you’d like. If you have to go, let’s talk tomorrow.

I dressed quietly, tiptoed to the bed, and kissed her cheek. She stirred, reached up with one arm, let it drop as she rolled over.

Girl fragrance mixed with the smell of sex. I took one last look at her and left.

* * *

Reynold Peaty’s corpse had been wrapped in translucent plastic, tied with stout twine, and loaded onto the right-hand stretcher in the white coroner’s van. The vehicle remained parked in front of Peaty’s apartment building, rear doors open. Bolted metal racks secured the body and the empty stretcher to its left.

Busy nights in L.A., double occupancy transport was a good idea.

Flanking the coroner’s van were four black-and-whites, roof lights pulsing. Terse recitations from dispatch operators sparked the night but no one was listening.

Lots of uniforms standing around trying to look official. Milo and Sean Binchy conferred near the farthest cop car. Milo talked and Binchy listened. For the first time since I’d known the young detective, he looked upset.