Chapters (128)
- Prologue: THE STORYTELLER
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Part One: THE “MARY SMITH” MURDERS
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Part Two: I LOVE L.A.
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Part Three: JUGGLING ACTS
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Part Four: THE BLUE SUBURBAN
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Chapter 80
- Chapter 81
- Chapter 82
- Chapter 83
- Chapter 84
- Chapter 85
- Chapter 86
- Chapter 87
- Chapter 88
- Chapter 89
- Chapter 90
- Chapter 91
- Chapter 92
- Chapter 93
- Chapter 94
- Chapter 95
- Chapter 96
- Chapter 97
- Chapter 98
- Part Five: END OF STORY
- Chapter 99
- Chapter 100
- Chapter 101
- Chapter 102
- Chapter 103
- Chapter 104
- Chapter 105
- Chapter 106
- Chapter 107
- Chapter 108
- Chapter 109
- Chapter 110
- Chapter 111
- Chapter 112
- Chapter 113
- Chapter 114
- Chapter 115
- Chapter 116
- Chapter 117
- Chapter 118
- Chapter 119
- Chapter 120
- Chapter 121
- About the Author
An intense feeling of homecoming overtook me right then and there. It was one of those transcendent moments that grabs you a little by surprise and reminds you all at once about the good things. Whatever else happened, there was this, where I needed to be, where I belonged.
Snapshot—remember the feeling for the next time I need it.
The feeling of intimacy didn’t last long, though, as the house soon began filling up with other guests. A few of my old guard from DCPD were the next to show up; Jerome and Claudette Thurman came with Rakeem Powell and his new girlfriend, whose name I didn’t catch. “Give it a week,” Sampson told me on the side. “If she’s still around, then you can worry about it.”
Aunt Tia and my cousin Carter were the first actual family to come, followed by a string of warm and familiar faces, several of them bearing some vague resemblance to my own.
The last to arrive was Dr. Kayla Coles, and I greeted her at the door myself.
“Annie Sullivan, I presume?”
“Excuse me? Oh, I get it. The Miracle Worker.”
“The Miracle Worker—the one who got my grandmother to put turkey in her chili. I’m guessing that was your work. Well done.”
“At your service.” She curtsied playfully in her turquoise dress, which looked very comfortable even while it clung to her. Kayla didn’t usually show off much of herself, and I couldn’t help noticing. She definitely looked different than she did in her usual preppy-practical work clothes.
Instead of a medical bag, she carried a large covered crock.
“Now this might be your biggest trick yet,” I said. “Bringing someone else’s food into Nana’s kitchen? I want to see this.”
“Not just the food; I brought the recipe, too.”
She turned the crock around to show a white index card taped to the side.
“Heart-healthy baked beans for a woman who knows all too well how to cook with bacon fat.”
“Well, come on in,” I said with a sweeping gesture. “At your own risk.”
The sounds of Branford Marsalis Quartet’s Romare Bearden Revealed ushered us through the house, where the party was gathering up steam and everyone looked glad to see Dr. Kayla, who happened to be a saint in the neighborhood. I couldn’t help feeling a little giddy. At the end of the week I’d be on another plane. But for now, this was as good as it gets.
Chapter 77
Chapter 77
I FOUND SAMPSON AND BILLIE just as he was opening a beer in the kitchen, and I took it out of his hands. There was something I wanted to get out of the way with the big man before the festivities really got rolling.
“Follow me. I need to talk to you—before either of us has a drink,” I told him.