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Jovanic arrived just ahead of the pizza and shortly after Kelly’s departure.

The moment he was inside the door, his arms went around Claudia, electric energy emanating from his body as he held her. He touched the tiny glass cuts on her arm and face with fingers more sensitive than she would have expected from a man his size. Holding her a little tighter, a little longer, until his solid warmth made her feel safe again.

Finally, he let go and stepped slowly away. “Not much to go on,” he said over his shoulder as he walked over to the French doors to check the locks. “No license plate, but at least they got the bullet. That way, there’ll be something to match if a weapon is recovered.” He ran a hand through the unruly salt-and-pepper hair in the absent-minded way he often did.

He told her he was still waiting to hear from the airlines with information on Lindsey’s Mexico trips. No word yet from the banks in the Cayman Islands, where he had called to investigate her accounts. And he had checked with the detectives who were assigned to handle the attempted break-in at Claudia’s house, and the shooting. “I think we both need a drink,” Claudia said, taking him into the kitchen. She got the bottle of Stoli out of the freezer and mixed them both a vodka martini. They bumped glasses in a silent toast, then carried their glasses into the living room and sat close together on the couch.

Claudia leaned back into the curve of his arm. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Jovanic put his glass on the coffee table and turned to look at her. He leaned forward and took her chin in his hand, turned her face up to his. His kiss was gentle—too gentle. Her heart started to thump.

He’s got more bad news.
She held her breath and turned her gaze on him, the question plain in her eyes.

Jovanic hesitated for a long moment then gave his head a reluctant nod, as if he had made up his mind. “I got my ass handed to me for taking you to Palm Springs the other day. I don’t know how the captain found out, but—I got tossed off the case. He’s assigned a couple other detectives to the Novak and Nelson murders.”

Claudia sat up straight, nearly spilling her drink, and stared at him. Her lips were still warm from his kiss, but she felt cold all over. “But what about
me?
” Her voice rose and she couldn’t seem to stop it. “Is he gonna wait until
I’m
a murder victim, too, to do something?”

His voice stayed level. “Barnes and Zuniga are good detectives. It’s pretty obvious that what’s been happening to you is directly related to Lindsey’s videotapes.” He reached for her but she shrugged away from him, angry at his captain; taking it out on him. “So, people can shoot at me and it’s okay?”

“No, goddamn it, it’s not okay. Pacific Division is investigating the shots at you and the break-in here. They’ll be working with Barnes and Zuniga. Look, someone wants me off the case—could be Heidt or Bostwick pulling strings, I just don’t know. I’m not gonna give up the investigation, but I’ll have to keep a low profile.”

After that, it didn’t matter what he said. She’d been counting on helping him to solve the case and get her life back. Now, his news had pitched her into a foul mood and she was too frightened to pull herself out of it, even though she knew she was being illogical.

Her humor didn’t improve when he rose from the couch, reminded her to set the alarm, and said a curt goodnight.

She wrapped the uneaten pizza and shoved the box into the fridge.
Why couldn’t he have been more understanding?

Why couldn’t
I
?

“What do you expect, sweetie?” Zebediah said over the phone. “He’s a man... you know we’re all lower than pond scum.”

Claudia switched the phone to her other hand and stretched out on the office couch. She felt empty and alone, and ashamed of the way she had handled Jovanic’s news. It wasn’t his fault he’d been pulled off the case.

“Let’s talk about Lindsey,” she said. “Ivan claimed she never printed, but it’s her handwriting in the note, I’m certain of it. There wasn’t enough handwriting to determine her state of mind when she wrote it to say whether she might have been suicidal.”

“Chances are, it was to get attention more than a genuine attempt to kill herself,” Zebediah said. “She was a primary narcissist.”

“You mean by the DSM IV definition?”

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
was the publication used by mental health professionals to diagnose behavioral disorders and mental illness. Claudia rolled off the couch and went to get her copy from the bookcase across the office.

“... a classic case,” Zebediah was saying. “Grandiose sense of self-importance, requires excessive admiration, sense of entitlement.”

Paging through the index to Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Claudia took up the litany of symptoms, reading down the list where he had left off, paraphrasing. “Exploits other people for their own ends. No empathy, think they’re special.”

“I was out of my mind to ever get involved with her.” Zebediah’s voice cracked. “I sent her to another therapist as soon as we’d had sex.”

Claudia said nothing, waiting. For what—a confession? She thought again of the letter he had sent to Lindsey.

“Get out of my life,”
he had written.
“Don’t force me to do something drastic. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Why did you do it, Zeb? Why did you sleep with her?”

“I could say she seduced me,” He huffed a short, humorless laugh. “But I’m not
that
lacking in a sense of responsibility. She came to the office one night... she always wanted our sessions scheduled late in the evening. That night, she brought a carpet bag with her. Halfway through the session, she excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, she was... well, let’s just say she was wearing a very sexy getup. “Of course, I knew I should stop her, but I felt...
paralyzed.
She sashayed around the office; lit some candles she’d brought with her; poured wine. She’d thought of everything... a little dope, a little Ecstacy. She absolutely fascinated me.” His voice trailed off, lost in that moment when he had made the choice to put his entire career in jeopardy.

Claudia caught her breath, staggered by the enormity of his confession. “Didn’t she care that you’d lose your license if you were found out?”
Dumb question. Of course she hadn’t cared.

“I told her I wouldn’t see her as therapist again. She was furious.” Zebediah’s voice held a note of regret tinged with something else. Anger? Frustration?

“California law forbids a therapist to date a patient for two years after discontinuing a therapeutic relationship. For a long time, I couldn’t stop myself from seeing her, even when she would torment me, threaten to expose what I’d done... it was the biggest lapse of judgment in my life. Finally, I couldn’t stand it and put a stop to the whole thing.”

Claudia’s stomach turned over, stricken with fear. “Zeb...
what are you saying?
”

“Losing my license because of a chronic blackmailer would have been the end for me. Frankly, for a long time, I was terrified... I thought she might follow through on her threats. But I came to realize that having her hold it over my head was worse than if she had just reported me to the licensing board.”

“What... did... you... do?”

“I told her I no longer cared; to do her worst. She just laughed at me and that was it. God, how stupid I was to let her get at me that way.”

It felt like a reprieve, and the feeling left Claudia dizzy. Her eyes went to the Egyptian wall hanging that hid her safe. “I saw the letter you wrote her, telling her to leave you alone.”

“What?
Where on earth?” She heard the shock in his voice, imagined the crows feet around his eyes creasing as he tried to figure it out. “Ivan found it. He seemed to think... he thought it implicated you.”

“I don’t understand... implicated me?” Zebediah went silent. “Good God, you aren’t saying he thought
I
killed Lindsey?”

“He couldn’t accept her committing suicide, so he tried to deflect the blame.”

“Onto
me
? Why didn’t you say something sooner? Sweetie, don’t tell me you thought it was true?”

“Of course not.” The lie came too quickly, but she couldn’t stand to hurt her old friend that way. She should have known better than to doubt him.

“Who else knows about this?”

“Nobody else. Zeb, about the note... it’s Lindsey’s genuine handwriting, but I’m not convinced she intended it as a suicide note.”

“Few narcissists actually complete suicide,” he mused, allowing her to distract him. “When it happens, they’re trying to get someone’s attention. Completion is usually by accident.”

“What if she called someone for help... someone whose attention she wanted... but they didn’t come?”

“Whom do you have in mind?”

“Bostwick told me Lindsey had a boyfriend. What if she called him and he didn’t want to come, or... or he was married and couldn’t get away. That could explain why he didn’t make himself known at the funeral, if he was there.”

“Or maybe he
wanted
her dead for some reason. If she called him after taking the pills, he could have seen it as a way of getting rid of her without having to do it himself.”

“He could be rid of her that way and be scot-free.”

“Interesting concept, darling, but what about the attacks on Ivan and you?”

“Jesus, Zeb, I don’t know. Even if Lindsey did kill herself, anyone she was blackmailing would know there was a chance the videotapes would be found.
Someone’s
trying avoid exposure.” Claudia gave a deep sigh. “I guess we’re back to square one again.”

Later, long after she’d rung off and night had settled over the house, Claudia remained on the couch. Hugging one of the big puffy cushions to her chest, she stared into the darkness, battling the urge to call Jovanic and ask him to come back. The hour grew late. Around midnight, she convinced herself to get up and shake out the cramps in her legs; tour the house, check doors and windows, re-check the alarm system. Ready to jump out of her skin at the slightest creak.

What’s he thinking now?

Her hand hovered over the phone. Had she killed the budding relationship by behaving like an immature brat?

After spending the past two nights lying next to him, listening to him breathe, feeling safe and connected to another human being, the thought of climbing into that big, cold bed alone was singularly unappealing.

“Claudia, it’s Joel. Please call me back on my cellular. I’d like to see you for dinner.”

She played back the message on her voicemail three times before she dialed his number. She wasn’t sure she believed in love at first sight, but the past few days had certainly been a wild roller coaster ride. The attraction she felt for Jovanic warred with her unease at becoming vulnerable again—she saw herself more as a merry-go-round person. Yet, if she would admit the truth, deep in her heart, she wanted to open herself to him. If only she could.

The restaurant’s name, Shanghai Red’s, must have been left over from some long-ago attempt at Chinese that didn’t work out, as the current cuisine tended more toward California Fresh. Claudia and Jovanic were seated at a window table where they could see the lights from the condos across the harbor shimmering on the water.
Romantic.

Jovanic appeared relaxed, enjoying himself. He hadn’t raised the topic of their tense parting the night before, and neither had Claudia who was more than willing to let it go. “So, tell me about this Halloween party,” he said.

She smiled invitingly. “Among all the sparkly guests, our personal buddy, Senator Heidt.”

That got his attention. “You sure about that?”

“Lillian Grainger said so, and it’s her party. Maybe you’ll get a chance to have a private chat with him. I don’t suppose he’ll have his lawyer in tow at the party.”

“Seems like too good an opportunity to miss. What should we do for costumes?”

“I already rented some. We’re going as Anthony and Cleopatra.”

He gave her a scowl of disbelief. “Aww, shit, Claudia, I’m not going in a dress!”

“It’s not a dress, Columbo, it’s a tunic, and with your legs, you’ll look great; trust me.”

“Yeah? In my experience, someone who says ‘trust me,’ usually means,
fuck you
.”

“Come on, smile. You’re going to the party with the Queen of the Nile. Besides, you’ll get to brandish a sword. The important thing is that he not recognize us.”

“If he does, I’ll probably get fired.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go.” He gave up pretending to be irked, and grinned. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it.” Then he changed the subject. “I saw our young friend, Brandi, today.”

Claudia searched the impassive expression for what might be hidden behind it. “This sounds like one of those coincidences I don’t believe in.”

“Let’s say I was in the neighborhood, so I stopped by for a friendly chat.” Jovanic took a rosemary roll from the napkin-covered basket, breaking it open and slathering on a thick curl of butter. He bit into it, sighing like a man who hadn’t eaten in days. “Now she’s had some time to sober up, Brandi confirmed that Bostwick brought dope with him to their sessions. Not that her say-so is gonna get him convicted, but it’s a start.” The waiter arrived with rare prime rib and a stuffed chicken breast.

The candle in the frosted ginger jar sent shadows playing across Jovanic’s face, lending him a diabolical look. “I’ve been checking up on Preston Sommerfield,” he continued. “... the pedophile in those photos you gave me from Lindsey’s brother...” He frowned at Claudia from under his brows. “By the way, you committed another felony when you paid Nelson.”

“What?”

“You purchased child pornography. That’s against the law”

Claudia groaned in mock repentance. “Oh Lord, that’s my third strike.” She counted on her fingers. “I took the flash drive from the crime scene, withheld the videotape, and now I bought dirty photos. I guess that makes me a career criminal.”