Chet was cooperative as the doctor closed the wound with a half dozen stitches. Hannah helped Brody get Chet in and out of the car. Ten minutes later, Brody parked in the narrow drive at Chet’s house. The front yard was dark. Chet must have gone to the bar long before the sun set. Most likely he’d skipped dinner, maybe even lunch.

“Would you mind getting the door?” Brody handed Hannah the keys. He helped Chet into the house. After settling him at the table, Brody flipped on the porch light and went back out to turn off the car. “Hungry?”

Chet shook his head. “I just wanna sleep.”

“You should eat.” Brody pointed to a cardboard pizza box on the counter. “How old is that pizza?”

“Dunno.” Chet shrugged. “Going to bed.”

He stood, swayed, then staggered down the hall. A door closed. Springs creaked. And that was that.

“I just want to check a few things, if you don’t mind.” Brody went to Chet’s fridge. He removed three moldy containers of Chinese takeout and sniffed the milk. Old. Fetching a trash bag from under the sink, he cleaned out the refrigerator.

Hannah peered around his body. “Is he trying to commit suicide by food poisoning?”

“He just might be.” He made a mental note to bring Chet groceries the next day. Then he opened the cabinets and found a bottle of Johnnie Walker under the sink. He poured the liquor down the drain and rinsed out the bottle.

“Is he going to be all right?”

“I don’t know,” Brody said. “Chet’s a detective on the SFPD. His daughter has been missing for a few years, and she looks a little like that body that turned up on Sunday.”

“Oh, no.” Hannah pressed a hand over her heart. “That poor man.”

“I’m doing everything possible to identify her, but the waiting is killing him.”

“I’ll bet. When will you know?”

“Thursday.” He led the way out the front door and locked up the house.

“It’s only Tuesday.” Hannah paused. “That’s a long time. Why can’t he identify his own daughter?”

Brody didn’t want to add to Hannah’s nightmares. “The victim’s identity can’t be determined visually.”

“Oh.” Her chin dropped as she continued to the car.

Brody opened the passenger door for her before getting behind the wheel. He started the engine.

Hannah stared up at the house. “Will he be all right tonight alone?”

“He’ll probably be out cold until morning. But I’ll come back here and sleep on the sofa after I take you home. Sorry about dinner.” He pulled out of the driveway. Her brother’s house was fifteen minutes from Chet’s place. “It’s almost ten o’clock, and you haven’t eaten all day.”