“He’ll resign in exchange for them keeping it quiet,” I predicted. “Erik will be expelled.” I paused, shifting my feet on the sandy pavement. “Except I’m still not letting this go, Ray. I’m not going to let her be buried twice.”

“Good,” he said in an approving tone.

“I’m going to have to quit the Rocque.”

“Give it a week or two,” he advised. “Janis might change her mind and want to help you.”

Ray’s body was tense beside mine. The streetlight sharpened the lines of his face, reminding me of the night in Wonder Valley.

“What about you?” I said. “What do you think about what I saw in Nelson’s office?”

“I think you shouldn’t have gone in there,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t seen Brenae on the wall.” I shuddered at the memory of the dim chamber and Brenae with her sexy, parted lips, her hopeful message. “And then the stalking petition. That was strange.”

“Best not to dwell on it,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s not your fight. Likely Nelson led Brenae along and then dumped her like everyone else when she started to crack up.”

“What about her footage of Nelson and your brother?”

“What about it? Even if she knew who my brother was, she wouldn’t have connected his death with Nelson.” He sounded sure. “And even if she did, she wasn’t fool enough to pursue it. Brenae’s fight was with Hal. She thought he was blind, and she was going to make him see. Watch me. Remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Brenae hadn’t asked to hang in that dim shrine, hidden away, an artifact. She’d asked the world to see her.

“You’re shaking.” As if by instinct, Ray put an arm around my shoulders.

His touch jolted me. I wanted to lean into it. I wanted him to pull us tight together. “I’m mad,” I admitted. “I’m also glad you’re here.” I raised my face to his, meeting his eyes. A moment passed, during which neither of us moved, and I didn’t breathe.

Ray sighed regretfully and pulled away. “I wouldn’t have missed you,” he said, and stood up, brushing his arms as if to remove the sensation of my skin against his. He took a step away from me, spun back. “How early do you get to LAX, when you fly?”

“At least an hour. More since 9/11,” I said, also springing up. I refused to ask him now if he was returning to L.A. I took out my keys. “You should go.” I couldn’t have wished for a more banal parting, I added internally. “Have a safe trip.”