Mercy’s smile was sad. “You’ll video Quill’s second line? She always said that she’d haunt us if she didn’t get a jazz funeral procession.”

Farrah hugged her hard. “Absolutely. I’ll even carry a parasol just for you. Let’s go, now. I need to pack and André and I need to sleep. We have an early morning.”

SANTA ROSA, CALIFORNIA

TUESDAY, APRIL 18, 10:00 P.M.

“Harry, come in, come in.” Dr. Burkett held his front door open, ushering Ephraim inside. He’d aged in the ten years since doing the surgery on Ephraim’s eye. The man had already been retired back then, so he had to be in his late seventies by now. And more frail than Ephraim remembered. If physical force was required, he could take the old man down, regardless of the throbbing in his pectoral where that bastard detective had shot him.

Burkett gestured at the sofa. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

Right. That wasn’t happening. Every muscle in his body was tense. Looking around cautiously, he set his duffel bag at his feet as he sank to the sofa. There was no way he was leaving his weapons in the stolen vehicle he’d driven from Sacramento. All he needed was for someone to take his bag, leaving him defenseless.

He was relieved to find that nothing seemed out of place inside the house, and he’d already checked the outside. No cops. Not a trap.

“I made some coffee,” Burkett offered cordially, as if he hadn’t threatened Ephraim into coming. “Would you like a cup?”

Ephraim considered just killing him and being done with it, but found he was curious as to what the older man wanted. “That would be nice. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.”

Burkett started for the kitchen, then turned to glare at Ephraim. “I thought you’d see your mother before you left. She misses you.”

Ephraim rolled his eyes. “Have you seen the news, Doctor?”

Burkett grimaced. “Yes. But I could sign her out for a day visit. You could visit her right here.”

“I’ll think about it,” Ephraim promised, but there was no way he meant it. If the Feds were watching his mother, he couldn’t take the chance that she wouldn’t be followed wherever the doctor wanted them to meet.

Burkett looked pleased. “All right, then.” He disappeared for a moment, returning with a silver coffee service on a silver tray.

That was a lot of silver. Ephraim found himself mentally calculating its worth as Burkett poured the coffee. “Thank you.” The caffeine would help wake him up.

Except . . . Burkett wasn’t drinking it and that had alarm bells clanging in Ephraim’s mind. He pretended to take a sip, using the napkin the doctor had provided to wipe his lips afterward.

“You mentioned printouts of Mercy and the woman she was with today. Can I see them?”

“Of course.” Burkett looked away to pick up a folder from the coffee table, and Ephraim took the opportunity to quickly splash some of the coffee from the cup to the carpet. He reached for the folder when Burkett handed it to him. “The photos the nurse’s aide took are inside.”