Chris was talking to him. “…don’t you want to fuck her?”

He faced his father, staring at cold, dead eyes. As impossible as it seemed, they became even more frigid whenever Chris got angry. “You know, Dad, it isn’t always about sex.”

“You’re wrong, Gabriel.” Donatti stroked his grizzled face. “It’s always about sex.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE SELF-PARKING LOT sat across from the hotel, elevated and paved, a square of asphalt spread onto the mountain like butter on a muffin top. Undeveloped land in Bel Air was valuable and it was only a matter of time before some conglomerate crunched some numbers and came up with a new development scheme.

And it appeared that the time had come.

Decker read the sign posted at the valet station. It announced the closing of the hotel for renovations and thanked its loyal clients for their patronage. He asked an aqua-shirted valet about the shutdown. He was tall and young and named Skylar.

“They’re going to modernize the hotel. It’s going to take a couple of years. Can I help you with something, sir?”

“I’m waiting for someone.” Then Decker recognized that the valet had been on duty last Sunday. “But as long as I’m here…” He pulled out his badge. “I’m trying to locate a woman who was staying here with her son.” He pulled out a few snapshots he had downloaded off Gabe’s Facebook page. They weren’t the best, but they showed Terry and Gabe full face. “She’s been here for six weeks.”

Skylar regarded the badge and then the pictures, his jaw moving furiously as he worked a wad of gum. “That’s Ms. McLaughlin.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And you’re trying to find her?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Is she missing?”

“She could be missing or she might have left town on her own. We’re still in the investigation stage.”

“Why are you investigating her?”

“It’s at her son’s request.”

“Oh.” Skylar handed the pictures back to Decker. “She was lovely.” A pause. “I mean lovely in her personality. She was good-looking, but she was so nice. She used to tip us even though she never used the valet. A couple of times I helped her carry things from her car in the lot across the street to her suite. Then she’d tip me double even though I told her it wasn’t necessary.”

Decker had taken out his notebook. “When do you first recall seeing her?”

“I don’t know…maybe like a month ago.”

“How did she appear to you?”

“Appear to me?” He didn’t wait for clarification. “She had a couple of fading bruises on her cheeks and under her eye…and her lip was swollen. People often come here to relax after they’ve had plastic surgery. I don’t know what she looked like before, but the surgery must have been a real success. She was beautiful.”