“You were at his funeral just over two years ago,” she said. “Blissville, New York. I didn’t have the chance to speak to you at the time, but I recognized you on TV a couple of days ago when you were interviewed at the motel where the college student was found.”

There was an even longer silence this time, and Jessica thought the call had been disconnected until Pryce finally spoke again.

“Of course,” he said. “Tony Shaw. Very sad. I happened to be in Manhattan and read about his passing in the family announcements in a newspaper. I thought I’d stop by and pay my respects. I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Shaw.”

“Thank you. I was just curious as to how you knew him?”

“Tony and I went to school together.”

“High school?”

“Yes, high school. I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but we’ve had some developments in a case I’m working on, and I really have to go now.”

“What was the name of the school?”

The line was already dead.

Jessica booted up the laptop. No one had tried to jimmy the door or pick the lock during the night as far as she could tell.

On the floor was a sheet of lined notepaper that had been slipped under the door. It was folded in half and then folded again into a neat little square. She picked it up and unfolded it. The note read,

We need to talk. Call me. Jack.

He’d written a cell phone number under the short message. Jessica refolded the paper and shoved it into the back pocket of her shorts and sat down at the desk.

Tony had told her he’d grown up in northwest Los Angeles, and she tried to remember those conversations now, if he had ever mentioned which high school he’d attended. Jessica thought he might have, but she couldn’t recall the name.

Most of the online biographies on Pryce focused on his LAPD career and didn’t extend as far back as his high school days. But after twenty minutes of digging around, she had the name of his school in Van Nuys and the year he would have been a senior there. She pulled up the school’s website and clicked on the alumni section.

At the top of the page was a gallery of photos from the class of ’87’s thirty-year reunion, which had taken place at a Best Western in Sherman Oaks a few months earlier. Just one year out from the class Jessica was interested in. There were links to Facebook pages dedicated to other class years and information on ordering copies of high school diplomas.