“Ten years ago, brother’s had no contact with him since. He wasn’t surprised to know Mel had gone Hollywood. Said the only thing Mel liked in high school was theater arts, he was always getting starring roles, could sing like Hank Williams, do impressions. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, you name it.”

“I’ve got something. You might even think of it as progress.”

I told him about the order from JayMar Lab, my talks with Kevin Dubinsky and Brent Dorf. Leaving out Len Coates because everything he knew was secondhand.

Milo said, “Knives and beetles. Her.”

“Purchased right around the time the baby was born. Poor little thing might’ve been targeted in utero.”

“I need to digest this … got time? My office, an hour.”

Midway through the drive to the station, I got a call from Len.

“Alex, I can’t tell you where I got this, so don’t ask, okay?”

“Okay.”

“The client we discussed did in fact opt for a therapist other than yourself. But the contact was limited to a single visit so obviously there was some serious resistance going on, don’t take it personally.”

“Thanks for the reassurance, Len.”

“Well,” he said, “we have feelings, too, no one likes to be passed over.”

“Agreed. One visit for what?”

He cleared his throat. “Here’s what I can tell you, please don’t ask for more: Client shows up late, can’t seem to articulate a good reason for being there, leaves before the session is over.”

I said, “Trouble focusing.” Thinking of Donny Rader’s voice on the line, his reputation as a barely literate dullard.

Then Len slipped and changed all that. “She … there was a lot of generalized anxiety, no ability to … explicate. Basically, it amounted to nothing, Alex, so I don’t see anything you can do with it.”

She.

“I’m sure you’re right, Len. Thanks.”

“Law enforcement issues notwithstanding, Alex, none of this can ever be repeated to anyone.”

“I get it, Len. You have my word.”

“Good … you still taking patients?”

“Infrequently.”

“I’m asking because sometimes I get run-over. Good cases, not bullshit ones, things get crazy-busy, I could use backup.”

“Beyond your associates.”

“They’re kids, Alex. We’re vets. You interested?”

“Something short-term, in a pinch, I might be able to help.”

“Pretty busy, yourself.”

“It can get that way.”

“Playing Sherlock, huh? Ever think of selling yourself to TV? Make a good series.”

“Not really.”

“No interest at all?”

“I like the quiet life.”

“Think about it anyway, I’d produce in a heartbeat. And don’t be a stranger.”

I continued toward the station, thought about Donny Rader setting up an appointment, Prema Moon showing up late and leaving early, unable to explain what she was after.

A couple of nervous, caring parents? That didn’t fit with the notion of cold-blooded baby killers. Something was off. I was struggling with that when Milo rang in.