“What else do you know about him?”

“Nothing, they’ve all been swept out of sight, I’m talking utter invisibility. There are good reasons for keeping your kids out of the public eye. But there are also bad ones.”

“Protecting a homicidal thirteen-year-old.”

“Protecting the alternative universe that created a homicidal thirteen-year-old. Rob, when I come across unusually secretive, isolated families, there’s almost always major pathology at play. The most common factor is abuse of power—a cult-like situation. Sometimes that stops at eccentricity. Sometimes it leads to really bad things.”

She drank more coffee, placed the mug on her desk. “Okay, I’ll call Brent right now.”

“Thanks, babe. Let him know I need him because he’s dialed in.”

“Brent’s all about being Mr. Inside, that’s the perfect approach.” She smiled. “But of course you knew that.”

CHAPTER
36

Brent Dorf had just left for New York on business. His assistant claimed a return date hadn’t been set but promised to deliver the message.

Robin said, “Brent’ll be interested in what I have for him, I’m counting on you, luv.”

She hung up.

I said, “Luv?”

“Charles is British and gay but he likes flirting with girls. Brent’s gay, too, for that matter. But he has absolutely no interest in girls.”

She laughed. “I can just imagine him and Milo taking lunch at the Grill on the Alley.”

“They allow polyester?”

“On alternate Tuesdays.”

“We haven’t been there in a long time.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever been there.”

“There’s another reason to go,” I said. “Tonight sound good?”

“You’re in the mood?”

“For time with you, always.”

“Meaning you’re tired of thinking.”

I told her that’s not what I meant at all and that I loved her and went back to my office.

Dinner was a two-hour respite and when we left the Grill shortly after ten p.m., I felt loose and content. The night air was clean and warm, an invitation to walk. Rodeo Drive’s around the corner from the restaurant and once the tourists go to bed, it’s a peaceful stroll. Robin held my arm as we strolled past windows showcasing stuff no one could afford. We made it home by eleven.

Making love was a great next step in the quest for distraction but when you’re compulsive and addicted to the bad stuff, you inevitably return to that dark place. I lay next to Robin as she slept peacefully, unanswerable questions eddying in my head.

The following morning, as she showered, I took Blanche outside for her a.m. toilette and retrieved the paper from the driveway. Leafing through, I came across Kelly LeMasters’s follow-up story on the park murders.

Page 10, maybe five hundred words, but she’d scored above-the-crease placement.