And then she stopped and backed up. She realized that she couldn’t breathe. She played it again. And again. Each time, she stopped as one of the men at the urinals turned and bumped heavily into Todd as they squeezed past each other and traded places. His smiling face filled the phone camera.

It was the last face she wanted to see, but it didn’t surprise her at all.

“Jason!” Frankie called. When the bedroom door over her head stayed closed, she called again impatiently. “Jason!”

Finally, her husband opened the door and came to the loft railing, which he grabbed with both hands. He was still dressed. His face was angry, but his anger dissolved as he looked past Frankie to the familiar face frozen on the fifty-five-inch television screen.

“What is that?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

“I found him,” Frankie replied. “It’s Darren Newman. You were right. He’s part of whatever’s going on.”

28

28

Frost checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. By ten thirty, Lucy still hadn’t arrived at Alembic.

He kept an eye on the front window, where he could see the night lights of Haight Street. His phone was on the bar in front of him, and every time it lit up, he expected a text or call from Lucy, but she was off the grid. He heard from Duane. Herb. Jess. But nothing from Lucy.

A finger of worry stroked his neck. He texted her again. It’s Frost. I’m at Alembic. Everything okay?

The message didn’t get delivered. When he dialed her number, the call went to voice mail. Her phone was off. He left another message and then drummed his palm on the bar impatiently. He peered through the crowd, expecting to see her face. She’d see him, she’d smile, she’d wave. Everything would be fine.

But it wasn’t fine.

At ten forty-five, he left. He walked two blocks back to where he’d parked his Suburban. When he got inside, he headed east on Haight. Lucy’s apartment was twenty blocks away, and he cut across the city, past the wild neighborhoods of Tibetan craft shops, piercing salons, and drag fashion boutiques. He parked in front of a vacant lot opposite her apartment building. Traffic was heavy, and he ducked across the street between cars. At the gated security door, he pushed the buzzer for Lucy’s apartment. No one answered. She wasn’t home.

He noticed lights in the apartment above his head, so he pushed the bell to get their attention. An older woman in a paisley dress and slippers stepped out onto the balcony above him. He held up his badge, and she buzzed him through the gate into the building. Inside, the stairwell was musty. He jogged four flights to Lucy’s door, and when he knocked hard, the door eased inward with a quiet click. It wasn’t latched.