“What happened?” I said.

She smiled. “I got a little too eager to help.”

“Excuse me?”

“When you gave me those names this afternoon, I ran them through the archives and didn’t find much. There was a story about the robbery they were involved with, and that was about it. But I didn’t want to report back with nothing, so I decided to do a little investigating on my own. I located addresses for two of them and drove out to talk to the neighbors.” She forced a tight-lipped smile. “Apparently, that wasn’t the wisest choice.”

I stared at her. “They did this? The guys on the list I gave you?”

She nodded. “Yeah. The neighbors weren’t real helpful, and they all seemed nervous. I left without learning anything, went back to work for another hour, and then came home. When I pulled into the lot, four men were waiting for me. Three of them had bats, and they started hitting my car, smashing the windows. I was screaming and trying to get my cell phone to call the police, and then the fourth one, this big blond guy, leaned down beside the driver’s door and smiled at me.” She gritted her teeth and frowned, angry. “People in the parking lot were screaming, someone was yelling about calling the police, and this guy, he’s smiling. Completely nonchalant. He hands me my own business card through the broken window and says, ‘I think it would be a good idea for you to forget all about us, ma’am.’ And then they left. They just got inside this fancy SUV and drove away.”

I looked at the car again, at the thousands of dollars of damage done so casually, and I took a few long, slow breaths, pushing down the rising anger.

“How are you so sure it was the guys on my list? Could it have been people from the trial you’re covering, or some other story?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, Lincoln, it couldn’t have been anyone else. First of all, I’d been handing out my cards to all the neighbors, which is probably where that asshole got his. And he had a definite accent. His English was flawless, but it was spoken in this clipped, careful voice. It was obviously a second language for him, and I’d be willing to bet he was Russian.”

“Did the police come?”

“Yes. They filled out a vandalism report, which should help me with the insurance company, but I told them I had no idea who the guys were. I don’t think they believed me, but that’s fine. I figured I’d talk to you first.” She cocked her head and looked at me. “Who are these guys, Lincoln?”

“I don’t know,” I said, wondering the same thing. “I know they’re criminals who were of interest to Wayne Weston shortly before his death. That’s all I know, so far.” I tapped on the side of her car. “I’m really sorry, Ace.”

She waved me off. “Don’t be, Lincoln, it wasn’t your fault. All you wanted was a computer archives check. It was stupid for me to go around asking questions without knowing what I was getting into, but that’s my job, so it was a pretty natural response.”

“I suppose you could press charges, if it really was the Russians,” I said. “But I think it would be best if you let me look into things first.”

“No way I’m pressing charges. I mean, I just asked some questions, and they did this.” She gestured at the car. “It probably wouldn’t be wise to do anything else to piss them off.”

I looked away. Intimidation is a powerful and ugly tool. And an effective one. They’d intimidated Amy, and she’d never struck me as the type of person readily susceptible to such tactics.

Apparently, she was thinking similarly.

“I’m used to thugs,” she said softly. “I deal with con men, murderers, thieves, and rapists. I write stories about them, I push their personal affairs into the public eye, and I upset them. And I’ve never really worried about it. But with these guys, it wasn’t the same. They were totally indifferent, you know? The one who talked to me, he looked just… I don’t know… empty. He looked like he could have raped me, killed me, or given me roses and felt exactly the same about all of it.” She took a deep breath. “Who are these guys, Lincoln?” she asked again.

I was saved from reaffirming my ignorance by a white Lexus coupe that squealed to a stop beside my truck. Amy and I both turned, and she put her hands to her head.

“Jacob,” she said. “I completely forgot he was coming over.”

Jacob Terry stepped out of the Lexus and looked at us with a wide smile. He was a tall, good-looking guy, with perfect teeth, eyebrows, and nails, and a haircut that said “beauty salon” where mine said “barber shop.” He’s supposedly the most popular news anchor in the city, but I remember a time when Pee Wee Herman and Geraldo Rivera were successful television personalities, so that’s not saying much.

“Hey, babe,” he said to Amy. “And you’re Lincoln Perry, correct?”

“Uh-huh.”

He beamed at me and offered his hand, apparently thrilled with the pleasant surprise of my company. “Good to see you again, Mr. Perry.”

“Likewise, Mr. Terry,” I said, realizing for the first sickening time that our names rhymed. Maybe he could join me when Joe retired. Perry and Terry Investigations. Yikes.

Terry was still smiling, completely oblivious to the wreck that was Amy’s car. “What brings you here?” he said.

“The smashed-up vehicle two feet in front of you,” I answered, releasing his hand. “Geez, for a professional journalist, you’re not the most observant guy in the world, are you, Jake?”

Amy fought to hide a smile while Terry fought to keep his in place.

“I guess not,” he said, looking past me and seeing the car for the first time. “Amy, what in the hell happened? Were you in an accident?”

I glanced back at the car myself, studying the damage and trying to comprehend how anyone could think it came from an accident. Maybe he thought she had rear-ended a semi that spilled a load of Louisville Sluggers onto her car.

“No, not an accident,” she said. “My car was vandalized.”

“What? That’s awful. Do you know who did it?”

She glanced at me and shook her head. “Nope. Probably just some kids, drunk and high and looking for a good time.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, crossing over to her and kissing her, rubbing her back with his hands. I returned my attention to the dented Acura.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“Are you still up for dinner?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Lincoln, would you like to join us?”

I looked at her and Terry, sorting through all the responses that came to mind and trying to select an option that wasn’t a wise-ass remark. It took a while, but I finally came up with one: “No, thanks.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for coming over. And, um, let me know what you find out, will you?”

“Sure thing.” I nodded at Terry. “Nice seeing you again, Jake.”

“Jacob,” Amy said. “He hates being called Jake.”

Terry seemed to blush, but he didn’t deny it. I bowed in apology. “My mistake, Jacob. It won’t happen again.”

I climbed into my truck and drove away, glancing at the rearview mirror and noting that Terry’s arms were still around Amy. It didn’t bother me, though. Did it? No. Why should it? No reason. I turned the music up louder.

Back at the apartment, I called Joe and filled him in.

“Is Amy okay?” he asked when I was through.

“I think so. She was a little shaken up, but she’s tough. Jacob Terry is there now to comfort her.”

“Don’t say it with such bitterness.”

“I didn’t.”

“Sure. Well, I have some news of my own, LP. I checked out the real estate agencies, the construction companies, and the law firm. The law firm refused to talk to me, saying they could have an associate attorney call me back on Friday if I’d like. Helpful folks. Officials at each of the real estate agencies, as well as the construction companies, seemed truly confused by my questions. They all claimed I must have been misinformed, but when I insisted I had accurate information, they told me they had no idea what I was talking about and promised they weren’t aware of anyone at the company hiring an investigator.”