“She seems pretty good, Dad. She wouldn’t tell us what happened. But she went out grocery shopping and made dinner tonight. I can’t tell if there’s anything wrong or not. You know Nana, how she is. She’s vacuuming now.”

“She’s just showing off. Go vacuum for her. Go ahead now. Help your grandmother.”

“I don’t know how to vacuum.”

“Then this is a good time to learn.”

I finished up with the kids and then called Kayla Coles, but I got her answering service. I tried Sampson next and asked if he could swing by the house and check on Nana, who had partly brought him up, too.

“No problem,” he told me. “I’ll show up hungry tomorrow for breakfast, how’s that?”

“Sounds like a win-win to me. Also, a very believable excuse for a visit.”

“She’ll see right through it.”

“Of course she will. Although you’re a very believable hungry person.”

“How’re you doing?” he asked then. “You sound like you’re at about fifty percent.”

“I’m okay. More like seventy-five. There’s just a hell of a lot going on out here. Big, messy case, John. Way too much publicity. I keep seeing that asshole writer Truscott, too. Though I hear he’s back East again now.”

“You want some backup? I could boogie out to L.A. I’ve got some vacation days.”

“Yeah, just what I need, to piss off your wife. Thanks, though. I’ll keep it in mind—if we ever get close to this Mary Smith.”

A lot of my best work was with Sampson. Being with him was one of the things I missed most about the police department. I wasn’t through with him yet, though. I had one more idea where he was concerned. When the time was right, I’d spring it.

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

I SPENT THE NEXT DAY at the FBI field office, worked from seven until seven, but maybe there was a light at the end of this particular long, dark, and creepy tunnel. Jamilla was coming to L.A., and I’d looked forward to her visit all day.

Jam insisted I not bother picking her up at the airport, and we made plans to meet at Bliss on La Cienega. When I got to the restaurant, she was standing at the bar with an overnight bag at her feet. She had on jeans, a black turtleneck, and black boots with pointy toes and steel tips. I slipped up behind her and kissed her neck. Hard to resist.

“Hey, you,” I said. “You smell good. You look even better.” Which Jamilla definitely did.

She twisted around to face me. “Hi, Alex. You made it.”

“Was there ever a doubt?”

“Well, um, yeah,” she said. “Remember the last time I was in L.A.?”