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“That makes me want to throw up,” Claudia exclaimed.

Jovanic banged his fist on the desk in frustration. “Shit, we can’t ID him from that.”

“I bet that’s Senator Heidt. It’s his build.”

“That won’t cut it with the D.A. Maybe if he had a tattoo on his...” Jovanic broke off, a dull red flushing his cheeks.

Claudia laughed, surprised at his embarrassment. “Don’t mind your language on my account, Columbo. You can say ‘dick.’”

“Jee-eez, Claudia, do you always talk like a sailor?”

She returned her attention to the monitor, where Destiny Cardoza was slowly screwing nipple clamps onto her squealing client.

Claudia winced. “I can’t believe he actually paid for that.”

“Pleasure and pain, it’s all the same,” Jovanic said, pointing the remote at the television. He fast-fowarded through the bondage session, stopping, finally, at a frame that showed Destiny loosening her client’s bonds.

He hit Play, and they watched Destiny help the man sit up on the edge of the bed. Brandi pranced over and straddled his lap. She pulled off the hood, but her body blocked the camera’s view of their client’s face. The tape ended here.

With a fed up sigh, Jovanic hit Rewind and leaned back in his chair. “That might be Heidt on the tape, but even if we could prove it, it doesn’t mean he had anything to do with Lindsey’s death, or Ivan’s, either.”

“The girls can testify it’s him, can’t they?”

“A couple of call girls against the kind of lawyers his money can buy? Who would
you
believe? Anyway, this tape doesn’t connect him to murder or blackmail.”

“What about his finances? He must have paid Lindsey a ton of money.”

“We’ll be looking into that.”

“Do you think this is the tape Ivan wanted us to have?”

Jovanic shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t incriminate anyone.” He dug a fresh toothpick from his pocket and unwrapped it. “Lindsey’s assets listed a house in Palm Springs. With Ivan dead, I need to find out who the legal owner is.”

“Palm Springs?” Claudia sucked in a sharp breath. “That note on Lindsey’s calendar said
‘Remind Bos
—
Blue Heaven
—
PS.’
Holy shit! Do you think she was meeting with Bostwick in Palm Springs?”

Jovanic contemplated it, his mouth twisting thoughtfully as he crumpled the plastic toothpick wrapper and dropped it into his empty coffee cup. “Maybe. You could be onto something.”

“I could go out there and look around,” she offered. “If you can get the keys to the place.”

He eyed her curiously. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you? We don’t know what’s out there. We might need a search warrant. In fact, I’ll get the paperwork started before...”

He trailed off, his face a blank, hiding his thoughts. Claudia didn’t know him well enough to guess.

The small room was silent as he rewound the tape, then replaced it in its box and slipped it into an evidence bag.

“What aren’t you saying?” Claudia asked when it became too uncomfortable to let it go any longer.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m an analyst. I analyze people. I think there’s something you need to say.”

“Damn, you’re good.” There was a hesitation before he blurted, “I’ve gotta go away tonight. I’m going to Phoenix on another case.”

Claudia’s heart sank. Just when she’d begun to feel safe, the rug was being pulled out from under her. He kept talking, as if filling the gap with words would somehow make it okay for him to leave when she felt so vulnerable.

“We’ll be in touch by phone. I’d feel better if I could keep an eye on things myself, but I don’t have a choice. Something’s breaking and I have to be there.” He toyed with his trash, crushing the paper cup, straightening it out. “Is there someplace you can stay until I get back, or can you get someone to stay with you?”

“I don’t need anyone to stay with me, and I’m sure as hell not letting some scumbag force me out of my own home.” Her attempt to keep the letdown out of her voice made her sound truculent. She tried again, softening her tone. “Look, Joel, whoever this guy is, he knows the police are involved; he’s not coming back. You said so yourself, he can’t get in with the new locks, and I’m getting an alarm system.”

Jovanic scowled. “Come on, Claudia, we’re not dealing with some street punk here. This asshole broke into your house. He’s probably killed twice already. We know he’s been watching you... he photographed you, for Christ’s sake! He threatened you by e-mail. What more do you want, a fucking gun in your face?” Why was she arguing with Jovanic? He was right. She knew she would be jumpy alone in the house. But something kept her fueling the debate. Her privacy had been violated by the intruder, but she was drawing the line at letting some anonymous criminal steal her independence, too.

She rose from her chair and reached for the empty coffee cups. “I have a business to run. I get handwriting samples almost every day. All my equipment is at my house.”

“You have a laptop computer you could use, don’t you?” he said, his voice tight. “Why are you being so stubborn?” She shook her head decisively. “I’m not leaving my house.”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Hey, you’re a big girl and I’m not your keeper. If you want to stay alone, stay alone.”

The next few days passed quietly. No more threatening e-mails. No strange vans parked outside. No further break-in attempts when Claudia left the house to run errands. Life started to slip back into its familiar routine. She could even go fifteen minutes without thinking about Jovanic.

The days were spent analyzing handwriting samples for clients, the evenings watching the news, chatting with Kelly or Zebediah on the phone, and catching up on the pile of professional journals she’d been neglecting. First thing Monday morning, she would ship Lindsey’s boxes to Jovanic’s office. By the time Saturday rolled around, the case and the upsetting events attached to it had begun to recede comfortably into the background. The loud knocking at her front door late in the evening shook the foundations of her newfound complacency like an earthquake.

A shakeup that was compounded when the unwelcome presence of Earl Nelson met her gaze through the peephole. How had he come by her home address?

Claudia’s heart was still thumping unpleasantly as she yelled through the door. “What do you want?”

“Open up.” Nelson rapped urgently. “Come on, open it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“You have to, lady, I got somethin’ for ya. Come on!” He held up a manila envelope so she could see it. “You’ll wanna see this.”

Claudia stared at the closed door, asking herself how stupid she would be to open it to him. She had already discarded the notion that Nelson had anything to do with Lindsey’s death. For him, it would have been a case of killing the golden goose, and she couldn’t see him doing that, nor being clever enough to set it up to look like suicide.

Almost without consciously making the decision, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door a crack, ready to slam it if he tried anything. He was still as smelly as he had been the day she visited his apartment. She breathed through her mouth to avoid having to inhale the musty miasma of drugs and alcohol that oozed from his pores.

“What is it you want?” she asked sharply.

“You gonna let me in?”

“No.”

Nelson held up the five-by-eight manila envelope and waved it at her. “I heard you was lookin’ for a tape.”

Destiny must have told him about the visit Claudia and Jovanic had paid Brandi.

“I told you before, what I’m interested in is Lindsey’s handwriting.”

Nelson snickered. “I gave you what I got. But this tape... you’re gonna want it. Mr. High-and-Mighty himself threatening to put a hit on me.”

“Who’re you talking about?”

“I figure you already know.”

“If you’re here to waste my time, I’m shutting the door.” She started to follow through on her threat, but Nelson stuck his foot in the opening, stopping it.

“Who ya think it is? Mr. U.S. Senator, our biggest customer. I told him how it was, now little sister’s out of the picture.
I’m
the man.”

Claudia rolled her eyes. “Oh, I get it. You told him you planned to continue blackmailing him, and you thought he’d be fine with that?”

Nelson shrugged. “Hey, it’s an insurance policy. Protect him from public embarrassment.”

“And he’s threatening you on this tape? Why bring it to me?”

“It’s is
my
insurance. There’ll be someone else who knows.”

“I guess you can’t very well call the police with that story, can you? Okay, give it to me.” Claudia reached through the opening in the door to take the envelope, but Nelson snatched his hand back.

“This ain’t a bunch of baby pictures, lady. This is
gold
. A measly thousand bucks won’t cut it this time. Whaddya say?”

Fury rose in her throat like hot acid. As far as she was concerned, even though he might not directly have caused his sister’s death, he was every bit as responsible as the killer.

“What do I
say?
I say get the
fuck
off my porch before I call the cops.” Without another word, she slammed the door in his face. She could still hear him.

“Lady, you don’t know what you’re doing! Come on lady, it’s your last chance.
Hey, Lady?
”

Then, next evening, a phone call out of left field.

Unknown caller.

Nursing a small hope that it would be Jovanic, Claudia picked up the handset. He had been deafeningly silent and the silence rankled. But it was the mocking voice of Destiny Cardoza that quickly shredded the safe little cocoon in which Claudia had wrapped herself.

“How did you like the
tape
we give you girlfrien’?”

Her throaty laugh stung, but Claudia kept her voice casual, not allowing the other woman the satisfaction of knowing that she was riled. “Where’d you get my phone number?”

“You are not the only
one
playing detective. It is not so
hard
to find you.”

“What do you want, Destiny?”

“Listen, girlfrien’, I
need
to see you.” The Jamaican accent thickened as she spoke.

“Why didn’t you give us the tape Ivan wanted us to have?”

“Why would we give something to de cops that somebody else is willing to pay plenty for?”

Claudia drummed her fingers on the desk impatiently. Everyone was trying to sell her something, but no one was offering what she really needed—a good sample of hand printing done by Lindsey as an adult. She brought her attention back to her caller.

“Destiny, you’re playing with fire. The guy on the tape is a dangerous sonofabitch.” Jovanic’s warning buzzed in her head. She had ignored it herself. How could she expect Destiny to listen?

But the other woman surprised her.

“I
have
been thinking a lot,” Destiny said. Despite her jaunty manner, a thin edge of fear sliced through her words. The kind of fear not easily faked. “I have sometin’ to give you.”

Suspicion sharpened Claudia’s tone. “What changed your mind?”

“Hidin’ out in my apartment all
these
days, thinkin’ about every
t’in’
, it made me feel all disheveled. Dat is not an enjoyful
feelin’.
”

“Why don’t you call Detective Jovanic?”

“You t’ink I want to deal with
cops?
”

“Where are the tapes Ivan told me about?”

“In
Palm
Springs, at de house.” A pause. “I
don’
want to talk on de phone. Meet me at de Grove, by de Farmer’s Market on Fairfax.”

Claudia hesitated. No way in hell did she trust the other woman to be straight with her. But If Destiny was willing to part with evidence that incriminated Heidt or another of Lindsey’s clients, and she could get hold of it, she would succeed where Jovanic had failed.

She glanced at her watch. Ten-thirty. “Where are you now?”

“Hollywood, near de
Magic
Castle. I will meet you at de fountain in de Grove at quarter to twelve.”

Claudia replaced the phone in its cradle, wondering whether she was about to make a monumental mistake. What if Destiny were setting her up with this phone call, using her promise of evidence as bait?

She made it forty minutes early, shunning the parking structure to park the Jag a half-block down the street behind a big black Ford Expedition. The SUV provided a shield, but still allowed a clear view of the entrance to The Grove, the trendy open-air shopping mall in the heart of Los Angeles, next to the old Farmer’s Market landmark.

Cutting the engine, Claudia slid down low in her seat.
Like a cop on surveillance,
she thought with a secret smile. She’d dated a PI a few times, keeping him company when he needed to serve a summons on someone hell-bent on avoiding it. Her company made the endless dreary hours more bearable, he’d said. She’d kept him awake when even hi-test mocha no longer did the trick and the need for sleep had grown from a vague threat into a scream. Tonight, staying awake was not a problem for Claudia. Adrenaline rushed through her veins until she drummed her fists on the steering wheel to dissipate the excess energy. She stuck her hand in her pocket and stroked the nasty little folding baton with which she had armed herself. She’d never had occasion to use it, but its presence gave her a sense of security. The PI had given it to her one night when they’d gone to a particularly unsavory neighborhood. It was illegal for a civilian to carry one, but who was going to tell?

Despite the lateness of the hour, Fairfax Avenue teemed with vehicles in both directions and garish neon signs lit up the night. Still, the lipstick-red Beemer was hard to miss. When it slowed at the parking lot next to the CBS television studios, preparing to make the turn, Claudia slumped lower in her seat.

An arm reached from the driver’s side window to take a ticket from the machine. At the lot entrance, a streetlight shone brightly on the car, outlining Destiny’s statuesque profile in the driver’s seat. She appeared to be alone. The gate arm rose, then fell behind her.