He shook his head and refocused on the San Diego Freeway. The Xanax he’d taken was making him a little loopy. He’d kept the caffeine going, too, just to maintain some kind of balance through the day. Actually, the morning commute was the hardest time of his day. It was a daily transition from not worrying as much to worrying a lot and feeling sick to his stomach. The closer he got to his office, his desk, his computer, the more anxious he felt.

If he knew for certain that another creepy e-mail was coming, it would almost be easier. It was the not-knowing part that made it hell.

Would Mary be back? Would it happen today? But, most important, why was she writing to him?

All too soon, he arrived at Times Mirror Square. Griner worked in the older part of the complex, a 1930s-era building that he had a certain affection for, under normal circumstances, anyway.

The main doors were large bronze affairs, flanked with imposing twin eagle sculptures. He walked right by them this morning, around to the back entrance, and took the stairs to the third floor. One couldn’t be too careful, could one?

A reporter named Jennie Bloom fell into step with him the second he hit the newsroom floor. Among all the staff who had shown a sudden interest in his well-being, she was by far the most obvious about it. Or was that odious?

“Hey, Arnold, how’s it going? You doing okay, man? What are you covering today?”

Griner didn’t miss a beat. “Jen, if that’s your idea of a pickup line, you must be the most unlaid woman in L.A.”

Jennie Bloom merely grinned and kept on coming on. “Spoken like someone with experience in matters of the heart. All right then, let’s skip the foreplay. You get any more e-mails? You need help on this, right? I’m here for you. You need a woman’s point of view.”

“Seriously, I just need some space. Okay? I’ll let you know if I get anything else.” He turned abruptly and walked away from her.

“No you won’t,” she called after him.

“No I won’t,” he said, and kept walking.

In some ways, even the annoying distractions were a relief. As soon as he turned away from Bloom, his mind went back into the disturbing loop it had been on before.

Why me? Why did Crazy Mary pick me out? Why not Jennie Bloom?

Would it happen again today? Another high-profile murder?

And then it did.

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

A CALM, MEASURED FEMALE voice said, “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“This is Arnold Griner at the Los Angeles Times. I’m supposed to call a Detective Jeanne Galletta, but I don’t . . . I can’t find her number on my desk. I’m sorry. I’m a little rattled right now. I can’t even find my Rolodex.”