“Nothing. Just a weird little chill I had.”

“Well, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I love you, honey.”

“I know. I love you, too, Daddy.”

“You be good to your mom. Okay?”

“I will.… You sure you’re all right?”

“Tired, but otherwise fine and ready for a Monopoly rematch. I’ll see you Saturday, okay?”

There was another missed beat from Emily’s end, then, “Okay, Daddy. Bye.”

Lou set the phone back in its cradle and braced his arms against the end table. His knees were putty, and the fullness in his chest felt like a balloon.

What in hell have I gotten myself into? he asked once, then again.

He was still leaning against the end table when his apartment buzzer startled him. He glanced at his Timex, a Father’s Day gift from Emily.

Ten o’clock on the nose.

Lou considered grabbing a kitchen knife, but decided against it.

The email made him believe that whoever was waiting for him downstairs wanted his help—for what, exactly, he’d find out soon. Still not completely trusting his knees, Lou held on to the railing on the way downstairs. Breakthrough or danger? Despite having showered, he was starting to sweat. His body was pulsating with a nervous energy.

You’re going to see your daughter on Saturday, he said to himself. You’re going to be fine.

At the foot of the stairs, Lou peered out through the front door’s sidelight window at a large sedan—possibly a town car. A man, graying hair, sharp looking in a dark blazer, tie, and khaki pants, waited beneath the porch bulb. Lou opened the door to accompany him to the car, but the visitor stepped inside the tiny foyer. Lou judged him to be a light-heavyweight, and in shape. Still, his eyes were kind, and Lou felt no threat.

“Dr. Welcome?”

“That’s right.”

“Turn around, please, and put your hands on the wall. I’ve got to frisk you.”

No introduction, and Lou didn’t ask for one. This was a driver—professional muscle. And judging by his not-overwhelming size, a tough one at that.

William Chester, Lou thought. The bodyguard had to be working for the seed magnate.

Lou spread his legs and set his palms on the wall, grateful that he had left the knife in the kitchen. When the driver finished, he escorted Lou down the outside stairs to the town car, idling by the curb. The car’s tinted rear window slid down as they approached. Lou was surprised to see a striking, well-groomed woman sitting alone in the backseat. She looked out at him, smiled thinly, and nodded.

Lou caught his breath as recognition took hold.

He had seen Darlene Mallory on television, in the papers, and in magazines, but this was the first time he had seen her in person. His initial impression was that none of the photos or video footage had done her even remote justice.

Chapter 37