Chino was not afraid of Merrill, who had to keep that in mind with every step. Rosario was Chino’s true poster child, his Christmas card, his family crest and his hobby. But for all Merrill knew, Chino had wanted him to hear Amy. A game. In his own house, Chino could make Merrill come to heel immediately, any time if he wanted. Of course he knew it. Lay down your arms, Commander, or I will behead your wife here and now.

Yassuh, boss!

So why hadn’t it happened?

Or had Amy seen that first, and co-opted Chino? Tried to run for it and gotten shot. She hadn’t answered when he’d called. She would have heard him. Her cry had carried to him.

How do you know you haven’t been set up? There seemed to be no way out that wasn’t filled with agony and confusion.

And Chino knew that, too. O’Malley said he had gone south on Chino when he’d found out what kind of human being he was. Enemies. The money is where the money is.

Merrill reached the end of the corridor, where he faced a pair of wide double doors. For the first time, a door handle yielded to his effort — and Merrill tensed. The door moved, but didn’t swing out. Rolled? In a house like this, such construction made no sense.

Merrill looked up and down at the opening between the doors. They were on a metal track. The upscale, conforming treatment was a façade. A bit more pressure allowed him a glimpse of intense, blue-white light — like the light in the back yard. A window? Merrill pulled the doors open wide.

A freight elevator. He could feel grit on the metal floor under his sock. What interested him immediately was what was beyond the gate on the other side — the source of the light. He didn’t want the inner doors closing behind him and activating the elevator mechanism. He used the revolver he had acquired in the hotel room to block the track.

On the other side of the car, he looked through the little window, left and right. The backyard, and an angle on the bright thing next to the pile of debris. The second gate opened easily. The other doors were like those on the inside. All he had to do was pull.

He did. After the stuffiness of the house, the air was cool and damp and redolent with the scent of jasmine. With his foot he nudged a rock into position to block the track the outer doors rode in. To his left and down some stairs was the oval pool he had seen on O’Malley’s computer map. Where Amy had had her moonlight dip. Going to the right widened his angle on the bright, white thing. Watching his back, he took a few steps over.