“Good. Now, go home and get some sleep. And don’t speed. The last thing you need tonight is a DWI.”

He gives me a somber salute, then shuts the door, starts the engine, and pulls slowly away. I stand at the curb and watch the taillights wink out as he hooks around the block to get headed home on the downtown streets, which are all one-way.

After years of putting men into prison—even into their graves—for committing crimes, I am about to cross the legal line myself. Tomorrow morning I am going to risk prison, forced separation from my child, to try to spare my father the same fate. That knowledge simmers in my stomach like a bad meal, acid and portentous. Is it the right thing to do? Is it stupid? Ultimately, it does not matter.

It’s the only thing I can do.

CHAPTER 10

As I pass through the wrought-iron gate of the Perry garden, I see a figure standing at the foot of the steps leading to the side door of the mansion, and the orange eye of a cigarette burning in the dark.

The shrubs and trees in the garden are lighted with white Christmas lights, like little stars. Nearing the steps, I realize that the figure is Caitlin Masters. She’s rocking slightly to the rhythm of “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” wafting from the back of the house. I stop a few feet from her.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

She blows a stream of smoke away from me. “I don’t. You’re hallucinating. Is your father okay?”

“He had an emergency call. So, you only smoke at parties?”

“Only when I’m bored.”

She doesn’t look bored. She looks like she’s been waiting for me. “Are there many people in town your age?”

She cuts her eyes at me. “You mean men?”

“I guess I did.”

“Nada. It’s a desert.” She stubs out the cigarette with her sandal and takes a sip of her drink. It looks like white wine, but it’s not in a wineglass, and in the dim light has a tinge of green.

“Is that Mountain Dew?”

“God, no. It’s a gimlet. Gin and Rose’s lime juice. Raymond Chandler turned me on to them.”

The Chandler reference surprises me. I’m starting to suspect that Caitlin Masters is full of surprises.

“You know the book?” she asks.

“The Long Goodbye.”

“Very good. For that, I’ll tell you a little secret I learned today. Interested?”

“Sure.”

“Remember I told you about the Sovereignty Commission files? How forty-two of them are sealed for security reasons?”

“Yes.”

“One of my reporters requested a Sovereignty Commission file today, and I was more than a little surprised to learn that it was one of the forty-two.”

I think for a minute. “Not Del Payton?”

She nods. “I thought you’d be interested.”

“Surprised, anyway.”