I tried Milo, again, no success.
Fusco's call bothered me. Too brief. Pointless. As if he'd been checking me out.
Knowing I was being paranoid, I got up, checked all the doors and windows, set the alarm. When I got to the bedroom, Robin was in bed reading, and I slid in beside her. She had on one of my T-shirts and nothing else and I stroked her flank.
'You've been industrious,' she said.
'Midwestern work ethic.' I reached up under the T-shirt, felt the orange peel of goose bumps between her shoulder blades. She yawned. 'Ready to sleep?'
'I don't know.'
She mussed my hair. 'Another rough night in store?'
'Hope not.'
'You're sure you don't want to try to sleep?'
'In a while,' I said. 'I promise.'
'Well, I've got to nighty-night.'
She turned off the light, we kissed, and she rolled away. I got up, closed the bedroom door after me, padded to the kitchen and made some green tea. From his bed in the service porch, Spike played a prolonged snore solo.
I sipped the tea and tried to forget everything. Normally, I like the stuff. Tonight it reminded me of sushi bars minus the food, which is kind of like a concert hall without the music. I reminded myself that it was the only herbal substance proven to the satisfaction of whizbang white-coats to be good for you, crammed as it is with antioxidants. And with all life throws at you, why oxidize needlessly?
When I finished the cup, I gave Milo one last try, reversing the order: cell phone first, then home, then the station. Superstition paid off; he picked up in the detective's room.
'Where've you been?' I said, realizing I sounded like a peeved parent.
'Right here. Why? What's wrong?'
'I just called a few minutes ago and they said you were gone.'
'Gone upstairs. The lieutenant's office. Not Mate, bureaucratic BS, seems my poor little baby detectives are unhappy. Insufficiently challenged by their assignment to Homicide. Like I'm running a kindergarten.'
'No success finding Haiselden?'
'Rub it in,' he said. 'Some therapist you are. Locked office, the landlord's some Chinese guy, barely speaks English, Haiselden's rent isn't due for another two weeks, so what does he care? I guess I should go back to his house, try to find out who does his gardening… Normally, I'd send Korn and Demetri to do it, but all their bitching means I have to be careful.'
'You're on the defensive? Thought LAPD was paramilitary.'
'More like day care, nowadays. Did you know you can get into the Academy now with prior drug arrests as long as they're not too serious. Cokehead cops. Reassuring, huh? Anyway, what's up?'
I told him about Fusco's call.
'Yeah, the grand voice of the federal government. He's got a PhD, I figured he might call you.'
'I didn't want to talk to him without clearing it with you. Not that I have anything to tell him.'
'Oh,' he said. 'Yeah, of course. Sorry I didn't tell you it was okay. He's originally from Virginia, big-time pooh- bah from their Behavioral Science Unit. Looks like my call to VICAP triggered something.'
'What's he offering?'
'A powwow. I figure what he really wants is to pick my brain-little does he know what a waste that'll be. If the case is hopeless, he bugs out. If I'm onto something, he jumps aboard, sees if he can claim some credit.… He faxed a charming note: Anything I can do, blah blah blah… Lem. Assistant Deputy Director, Behavioral Science, hoo- ha.'
'He said you'd be meeting with him soon.'
'He wanted tomorrow, I put him off, said I'd be in touch. Gonna keep putting him off, unless the bosses order me to waste time. Or do you think I should be open-minded?'
'Not so open your brain falls out.'
'That's already happened… If we do meet, it's gonna be at his expense. Two-pound steaks, hyperthy-roid potatoes at the Dining Car or The Palm-I'm making myself hungry. I work three months out of the year to pay the IRS. Let the Bureau pick up the tab for my cholesterol. Anything else?'
'Still planning on seeing Mr. Doss tomorrow?'
'Eleven A.M., his office. Why?'
'How 'bout that,' I said. 'Eleven's when I'm due to see Stacy.'
'There you go,' he said. 'Synchronicity-something you want to tell me about Daddy?'
'Nope.'
'Okay, then, happy therapy, I'm heading home. If I fall asleep at the wheel, you can have my pencil box.'
'Take care of yourself,' I said.
'Sure, I always do. Sweet dreams, Professor.'
'Same to you.'
'I don't dream, Alex. Against department regulations.'
CHAPTER 14
ELEVEN A.M. TUESDAY. Sun and heat and clarity, an unseasonably beautiful morning. The weather didn't matter much. I'd been waiting in my office for half an hour, no sign of Stacy.
I cleared some paperwork, phoned Pali Prep. The secretary knew my name because I'd treated other students. Yes, Stacy had been excused from class. Two hours ago. I tried the Doss home, no answer. No cancellation message left at my service. I wanted to call Richard's office, but with teenagers you had to be careful not to breach trust, especially when dealing with a parent like Richard.
Also, Milo was with Richard, and that complicated matters.
Ten more minutes and now the session time was gone. Your basic no-show. Happened all the time. It had never happened with Stacy. But I hadn't seen Stacy in half a year, and six months was a long stretch of adolescence. Maybe seeing me had been her father's idea and she'd finally stood up to him.
Or perhaps Mate's death had something to do with it, churning up memories that reminded her what could happen to a woman who allowed herself not to be.
I filed the chart, expecting a phone call from one Doss or the other by day's end.
But it was Milo who cleared things up.
He showed up at my house just after one P.M.
'Had a quiet morning, huh?' He walked past me and entered the kitchen. My fridge is an old friend of his, and he greeted it with a small smile, removing a half-gallon of milk and a ripe peach. Looking inside the carton, he muttered, 'Not much left, why bother with a glass.'
He brought the milk to the table, upended the carton, gulped, wiped his mouth, assaulted the peach as if exacting revenge on all fruit.
'No session with little Ms. Doss,' he said. 'Swami Milo knows because Ms. Doss came over to Daddy's office right around the time she was supposed to be with you. Right when I'd started talking to Daddy. Something about her brother. Looks like he's run away.'
'From Stanford?'
'From Stanford. Doss moved my eleven up to ten and I'd just gotten into his sanctum sanctorum-ever been there?'
I shook my head.
'Penthouse suite with an ocean view, executive trappings plus your basic private museum. Antiques, paintings, but mostly walls of Oriental breakables-hundreds of bowls, vases, statues, little incense burners, whatever. These glass shelves that make it look as if everything's floating. Had me worried about breathing too hard, but maybe that's the point. Maybe throwing me off balance is why he changed the time. He left the message at midnight, it was only by luck that I got it. I figure the plan was I wouldn't, would show up at eleven, and he'd tell me aw
