“I’ll read it later. I can’t face it right now.”

“Of course. You’ve had a lot to take in already.”

“Earlier, you said I’d probably be safer knowing the truth about my past. What did you mean?”

“I don’t want to frighten you, Jessica, but the killer could still be out there. Or they might be dead or in prison for another crime. We just don’t know. But you’re going to have to be more careful, more vigilant, from now on, just in case. Do you have a weapon?”

Jessica nodded. The baby Glock was in her shoulder bag. “I have a gun.”

“Good. Where are you staying while in town?”

“The Blue Moon Inn in Eagle Rock. I’ve been looking into the case.”

“Shit, Jessica.” Pryce stared at her in disbelief. “What you’re doing is dangerous. You need to get as far away from LA as possible. And you need to do it right now.”

23 JESSICA

23

JESSICA

Jessica assured Pryce she would return to the Blue Moon Inn and start packing up her stuff right away.

She lied.

She had no intention of leaving LA just yet.

As she pulled into the motel’s parking lot, Hopper gestured through the window for Jessica to join him. She nodded and held up two fingers, indicating she would meet him in a couple of minutes. She parked outside room 5 and strolled back the way she had just driven. Entering the lobby, she saw an old man sitting on one of the wicker seats.

His face was a weather-beaten tan and creased by a million wrinkles. He reminded Jessica of a shar-pei. Just like a dog’s, his head bobbed up, and he sat up straighter at the sound of the door, his eyes tracking her all the way to the counter.

“Visitor here to see you,” Hopper said in a hushed tone. “Chuck Lawrence. He heard you were in town asking about the Lavelles.”

“The guy who found Eleanor’s body?” Jessica whispered back.

“That’s the one. Must be real keen to speak to you. He’s been here for more than an hour already. We’ve gone through two pots of coffee and spoken about everything from the weather to how the Lakers will fare next season to the price of groceries at Ralph’s.” Hopper lowered his voice even further. “I think the old boy’s just a bit lonely and wants someone to talk to.”

“Lucky me.”

Jessica walked over to Chuck Lawrence. He was at least ten years older than Hopper, just about justifying the motel owner’s reference to the man as an “old boy.” Chuck had thinning silver hair, neatly parted and combed, and kind brown eyes. A walking cane was propped against the couch next to him.

“Mr. Lawrence? I’m Jessica Shaw. I believe you wanted to have a chat about the Lavelles?”