“I booked the first flight to New York I could get a seat on,” he said. “I was buzzing. I was about to find Alicia Lavelle. Of course, it didn’t turn out that way. Before I’d even sat down to my pastrami sandwich for lunch, I’d discovered Tony Shaw was dead and you were in the wind again. Sold up, left town, no forwarding address. You can imagine my disappointment.”

“My heart bleeds for you.”

Connor at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“I almost found you another couple of times,” he said. “DeKalb County, Alabama. Granbury, Texas. Both times, I showed up less than twenty-four hours after you’d left town. I started to believe I’d never track you down, that you’d always be two steps ahead. From what I’ve heard, you’re a good PI. I got to thinking maybe you knew exactly who you were, and you were making damn sure no one ever located you. I took on other jobs that occupied my time and attention. The Lavelle case went on the back burner. Then I got a Google Alert. Jessica Shaw’s name had popped up in a local newspaper after helping cops find a missing teenager in Simi Valley. Suddenly, Alicia Lavelle was the priority again.”

“You’re John Doe,” she said. “You sent the email. Lured me to Eagle Rock.”

Connor nodded. “I knew it was a long shot. Then, Wednesday night, I’m sitting having a beer in a bar in Venice, and I get a call. It’s Jeff Hopper. Turns out a female PI from New York is in town, and she’s working the Lavelle case. Blonde, pretty, little diamond stud in her nose, and a lot of tattoos. I felt like I’d won the lottery. And here we are.”

Jessica said, “What I don’t understand is why all the pretense? Why not just call in the LAPD once you’d tracked me down? Why goes as far as . . . what you did last night?”

“I know this is a fucking mess, Jessica,” he said. “It was supposed to be a job—that’s all. It was never meant to be personal. But it is.”

Connor got up from the bed and walked toward her. Jessica backed up and felt the rough edge of the desk press hard against her kidneys. She raised the gun, and Connor stopped, his hands held up, more in disbelief than surrender.

“Don’t come near me,” she said. “You don’t get to lay a finger on me again.”

“What the fuck, Jessica?”

“I’ve been in Eagle Rock for days, yet there’s no Geersen here. No LAPD. Why?”

“I needed to be sure you really were Alicia Lavelle, and I needed to know how much you knew.”

“Bullshit. You were using me as bait. You wanted me to lead you to the man who killed my mother.”