As Jack’s zeal for his crusade sagged, his problems at home only loomed larger. His out-of-control emotions, as the recent minor episode with Vinnie exemplified, were a clear sign he still lacked focus. For a few moments Jack debated whether he should stick with the alternative-medicine idea in hopes of solving the problems of researching it or whether he should switch and try to find something more engrossing.

The ring of the telephone startled him out of his reverie. He glared at the phone with a sudden flash of anger, suppressing an urge to rip the blasted cord out of the wall. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

But what if it was Laurie? Perhaps there’d been a sudden change for the worse with JJ’s condition. Perhaps she was calling from Memorial’s emergency room. Jack snatched up the handset and barked, “Yes?”

“Hey, big guy,” Lou Soldano rumbled. “Am I catching you at a bad time? You sound harried.”

It took Jack a moment to reboot his brain. He’d been so certain it would be Laurie calling about some kind of disaster. “It’s okay,” he said, struggling to calm himself. “What’s up?”

Next to Laurie, Lieutenant Detective Lou Soldano was one of his favorite people. In many ways, Lou and Jack’s friendship had a curious twist. Before Jack had come on the scene, Lou and Laurie had dated for a time. Luckily for Jack, their relationship had changed from rocky romantic to pleasant platonic, and when Jack and Laurie began dating, Lou championed Jack on multiple occasions. At one particularly difficult juncture, it was Lou’s belief that Jack and Laurie were made for each other that probably saved the day.

“I wanted to give you some follow-up,” Lou said, “on that suicide gunshot case you called me about Tuesday. You know which case I’m talking about?”

“Of course. The woman’s name was Rebecca Parkman. That was the case that the husband was dead set—excuse my pun—against his wife having an autopsy, supposedly for religious reasons.”

“It appears he had other reasons, too,” Lou said.

“I’m not surprised. Although the entrance wound was somewhat stellate, it wasn’t stellate enough, which suggested it was not a contact wound. How far away did I guess the gun was when it was fired?”

“Two inches!”

“In my entire forensic career, I’ve never seen a suicide with a gunshot wound to the head that wasn’t a contact wound.”

“Well, with your suspicions we got a warrant and burst in on the guy. And guess what, he was entertaining this young chick. Can you imagine? Two days after his wife is supposed to have killed herself, he’s boffing this cheerleader type.”

“Did you find anything incriminating?”