I reached Santa Teresa at 9:00 that night. The summer temperatures had cooled rapidly as the sun inched its way down toward the horizon. Along Cabana Boulevard, the streetlights had flicked on and the wide stretch of ocean had turned all silvery and white. I stopped by my apartment, where I dropped my bags and wrote a quick note to Henry letting him know I was home. I left a message to the same effect on Cheney's answering machine, saying I'd catch up with him when I could.

By 9:201 was back in the car, heading south toward Montebello and the Lafferty estate. Gingerly I put a hand to the knot on my head – still sore, and still undiminished in size. Happily the headache was gone and I thought it safe to assume that I was on the mend. I didn't think I'd jog for a day or two, but at least my thinking seemed clear.

The drive up from Los Angeles had given me a chance to reflect. I still had no clue how the two goons had found us in Reno. As odious as Beck was, I didn't picture him with thugs on his payroll, which meant they were sent by Salustio Castillo. I was baffled by their snatching Marty. Reba's theft of Salustio's twenty-five grand made her the logical target. Unless Marty had done something even more foolish than she. Such as what? I wondered if he'd packed the remainder of Salustio's money in the rolling bag. But to what end? From what he'd said that night at Dale's, he'd set aside sufficient funds to take care of himself. So why steal more and why pass it on to Reba when all that would do was place her in greater jeopardy than she was in? Meanwhile, where was she?

I thought it was entirely possible she'd commissioned Misty to dummy up a passport and other phony documents for herself as well as for Marty. If that were the case, she might be on her way out of the country, though I couldn't believe she'd go without saying good-bye to her dad. She might not confide her destination, but surely she'd find a way to let him know that she was okay. Not for the first time, I was thinking my relationship with Reba was at an end. She'd blow off her parole and take her chances as a fugitive.

When I reached the entrance to the Lafferty estate, the gates were closed. I pulled up to the keypad, rolled down my window, and pressed the call button. I could hear the line ring inside. Once. Twice. Freddy picked up, her voice sounding scratchy over the intercom system.

I stuck my head out the window and raised my voice. "Freddy? It's Kinsey. Can you let me in, please?"