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Back Lesson In Red Save as PDF
Chapters (36)
  1. Cover
  2. Lesson in Red
  3. Dedication
  4. Cast of Characters
  5. Lesson in Red
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. Acknowledgments
  36. About the Author

“I left L.A. last summer because I decided that finding Calvin’s killer wouldn’t help me. Or Willow. Or Nathaniel.” He looked at me, not wary, not shuttered anymore, but dead certain. “I belong with him. The boy.” I belong with him. Love and fear mixed in his voice, making the simple statement echo in the car. “And I need to bank the funds to support him, in case anything—” He turned away, a thin scar on his right cheek shining in the sunlight. “My line of work doesn’t guarantee a long life, so when Janis offered me another well-paying gig, I took three weeks of vacation time to come here. I think I can stretch it a few more days, and then I have to go home again. And then this story—whatever it turns out to be—will be all yours.” He paused, and his tone changed. “I’m happy to stay in touch, if it helps you. I won’t be able to fetch your coffee anymore, but I can be a sounding board.” He smiled, but his eyes were on the distance again, the dry hills and telephone wires, the white stripe of the aqueduct descending.

“Thanks,” I said. “Does Janis know all this?”

“Most of it,” said Ray, and then added in a mutter: “Enough to scold me for leaving you behind.”

My stomach fluttered. “As if Janis doesn’t have enough to do, she has to matchmake, too,” I said, forcing a laugh.

I waited for a joking reply. When it didn’t come, I had the sinking feeling that Ray had been referring to leaving the investigation. Not leaving me.

“Your nephew must miss you,” I rushed to say. “I’ll take you up on the sounding-board offer.”

Ray remained silent, his face tense. He was reading the green freeway signs, the next exit in five miles. Another eleven to Valdivia. Then he looked at the steering wheel and the long lanes in front of us, as if somehow either could offer him another direction in which to turn. Finally he sighed and sank back in his seat. “You cool enough?” he said, glancing over. “I can turn up the AC. Let me turn up the AC.” He cranked the knob and asked me about my latest research on Brenae, chill air spilling over both of us.

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