The doors opened and Donatti, once again, went through the high-tech security. After he heard the clicks, he took out the key to his son’s room and let them both inside. Gabe had set up his area as a suite. The Steinway sat in the living room, along with Donatti’s cello, and there was a small sitting area with a TV. The bedroom held a king-size bed and not much else. But it did have a walk-in closet and an en suite bathroom.

Donatti dropped the bags on the floor. “I want to settle you here so everything will be ready when your mom gets out of the hospital. Tomorrow, when you’re rested, separate out your mom’s things from your things.”

“Why? Won’t Mommy be staying with me?”

“No, darling,” Donatti said. “Mommy will be staying with me.”

CHAPTER 3

ANYTHING?” DONATTI ASKED.

“No, sir,” Giraldi said. “Everything’s been quiet.”

“That’s good.” He shook his head. “You two go back to my office. One of you watch the door, the other watch the elevator. You’ve been on since what? Ten?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, you’re done at six. Do you mind doing overtime?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Who’s on after you?”

“I think it’s Bacon and Millard.”

“Tell them to start at ten. I think you’re going to have to do ten-hour shifts until I figure this out.”

“It’s fine.”

“Good. I’ll check in with you before ten.” He took out the car keys and threw them to Giraldi. “Go.”

The men got up and left, leaving him alone for the first time since this entire ordeal began. He sat down and threw his head back. Too wired to sleep, but too tired to do anything useful, he just sat and waited. Fifteen minutes later, the double doors opened. He stood up and then sat back down. It was the chief sheriff; the man also worked for him. Glorified security guard. Basically, his job was to calm down drunks and take ODs to the ER. Bill Saverhall was about six feet with a gut, but he had strong arms and was good with managing people without handcuffs. Anything really physical, Donatti and his men took care of themselves.

“Hey, Bill,” Donatti said.

“Chris.”

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“One of your clients might have overindulged. They’re pumping his stomach.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Richard Feller.”

“He’s been here before. He should know better. Thanks for letting me know.”

Saverhall looked at the floor. “I understand you’ve got a team working on a female who was beat up.” Donatti waited. “Relation to you or …”

“My wife … ex-wife.”

“You were married?”

“I was.”

“Does she live here?”

“No.”

“How’d she get here?”

“I took the jet to Los Angeles and picked her up.” A pause. “Where is this leading?”