“No, and an old friend of hers showed up today looking for her, too.”

“Well, Leigh’s a grown woman. She’s causing you so much trouble. It’s terrible. Are you okay?”

“I made some mistakes talking to them. I got rattled, confused, and-I didn’t tell them about Martin, and they’re going to find out if they keep looking, and they’ll think I lied to them deliberately, and-”

“Martin Horner? Your partner? What about Martin?”

Ray said slowly, “He had an affair with Leigh.”

Long, astonished pause. “I don’t believe it. An affair?”

“People know at the office.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

He wanted to shrug, but he knew she wouldn’t hear that. “Yes. It’s ridiculous and sordid. But to compound it, Martin and I had an argument. We were overheard.”

“You lost your temper, didn’t you, honey?”

“As a matter of fact, I hit him.”

Silence while his mother probably rued the day he was born. “That’s not good.”

“Yeah.”

“I wish you didn’t have my temper.”

“I was provoked; that’s fair to say. He said I drove her to him.”

He heard his mother breathing on the line. “Don’t you dare allow yourself to take a single bit of blame for their despicable behavior!”

He hated telling her these things, intimacies, but she should know. After all this time, he had to admit to himself, he tried to stay as closed off as she was, tight as a microwave oven, keeping the toxic energy inside.

“You never mentioned you had…issues with Martin.”

“I didn’t have issues with Martin until he slept with my wife.” He imagined he could hear the clicking of her brain. Unlike him, she thought things through in advance, even when she was upset.

“I think we should consult with an attorney, Ray.”

“No need yet. Let’s see if they come back with a warrant. Anyway, what’s to find? There’s nothing here.”

“A search warrant! My God, the papers!”

“Mom, take it easy.”

“Listen, here’s what we’re going to say. Anytime they question your absence, you were here with me. What would be good for us to be eating? Hmm. It might depend on the time of day.”

“I did mention you.”

“In what way?”

“I said that Leigh might have gone to see you sometime after she left the house.”

“Oh. You said that? Why, Ray?”

“She told me you spoke in the morning.”

“Oh, I did call that morning. I gave her a message for you to call me, that’s all. I have been thinking about how long it has been since I saw Leigh. I haven’t seen her since July Fourth. You remember?”

“Ah, yeah.” They had eaten, then walked to the nearby park to hear one of those Dixieland bands play for free on the bandstand. Remembering that night, Ray was gripped by the memory. Even then, he had a chance to change things with Leigh, make them right. He remembered how much they laughed, how they sang along with the music. Leigh couldn’t carry a tune, but she loved singing anyway and she didn’t care when people laughed at her, either.

“If they come here, I can only explain to them I haven’t seen her since then,” Esmé said.

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I don’t know why, but I told them I went to your house right after Leigh left on Friday night, looking for her.”

“You did?”

“I lied. Maybe I was embarrassed that I didn’t chase after her.”

“Okay. Fine. What time were you here?”

“About eleven.”

“You didn’t call first?”

Ray laughed a little. “Obviously not.”

“You didn’t call first, because you were so upset, and you wanted to be with me even if she wasn’t here,” his mother said. “You got here-just before eleven?”

“Why not?” Ray said. “Sure.”

“You asked if Leigh had stopped by, and I said no.”

“That’s what I told them.”

“That’s what happened then.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have mentioned you at all. But I count on you so much. Too much.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re your own man.”

“You’re too damn supportive.”

“Hush, Ray. This is serious.”

“I should never have involved you.”

“Well, you just did. You were very upset-no, concerned. We talked it over. You weren’t feeling well. You lay down for a few minutes. We had some tea. We ate crème brûlée.”

“You make a great crème brûlée. This time the caramel was ever so slightly burnt. How’d you whip up all that when you weren’t even expecting company?”

“Don’t joke, Ray.”

“Leigh’s absence is my problem, not yours. I hate asking you to lie for me.”

“It’s not like you did anything to hurt Leigh.”

He saw the cassette on the table.

“I have another tape, Mom. I went back to Stokes Avenue. Remember? Third grade. Or was it fourth grade? The molding? In your old bedroom?”

She gave a little shriek. “Do you realize what you’re doing? Ray, I-I’m beginning to think you have lost your mind! You’re breaking the law! Now you listen to me, Ray. You already have the police interested in you. You’ve got to stop this!”

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, except that you’re ruining your life! Please tell me you aren’t going to do that again, go use those old keys and invade people’s houses. Especially now. Please, honey.”

Understanding she would never explain, fighting down another wave of fatigue, he gave her what she wanted. He told her that he wouldn’t do it again.

But before he fell into uneasy dreams, he put on his headphones and listened to the remainder of the tape fragment.

“The phone number was easy,” said the now familiar male voice.

“Oh, God. Stop. Please stop!”

“I’ll stop when you stop hurting me, punishing me.”

“This can’t go on.”

“You think you can do whatever you want,” the voice said. “I will find you. I’ll always find you. I will never give up.”

“Bastard!” Ray’s young mother cried.

A fter work on Wednesday, a day that started dull but ended in an exhilarating courtroom scene between warring business partners in commercial real estate who kissed and made up, Kat met Zak Greenfield at the boardwalk in Venice. He handed her a bouquet of lilies, such fine perfume, but so useless, given that she had only two hands. She walked back to her car, slightly miffed at the delay, stuffed them into the back seat, and hoped they had enough water in the little tubes to survive what she hoped would be a tough, sexy night. Then met him as the sun was nodding off into the ocean like a tired baby.

He rented Rollerblades for them both, and she went along with it, though she had a bad ankle and a worse attitude about cruising clumsily up and down the crowded beach walk on unstable tiny wheels. Lashing the laces, she cast glances at him. He looked happy and even knew how to thread the laces without consulting directions.

“Hold my hand,” he advised.

As if she had an alternative plan.

She grabbed hold, teetering, twisting, thoroughly annoyed at herself for pretending enthusiasm, and took off.

They glided south.

On the right, on the beach, foreign tourists who didn’t know any better threw sand at each other, the ocean roaring in the background. On the left, raucous summer renters tossed down tequila in their deck chairs. The twinkling lights of the outdoor cafe they were passing came on.

“You’re doing great,” said Zak.

Yessir, Kat thought, yessir, Mr. Zak Greenfield, sneaking another good look at him. He had not shaved today, which put him into the category of the sexually suggestive, in spite of his clothing, which was a little too Dockers for her taste. Still, she tingled a bit at the thought of rubbing her own cheeks against his prickly beard.

Something about him.

Jacki talked about chemistry between people, how she saw Raoul and wanted him right then and there. But Kat knew all about the wonders of men, their skin, the way they smelled, what they aroused in her. When Jacki tried to explain this chemistry was bigger than Kat’s definition, Kat got as lost as she had when she was forced to contemplate reduction-oxidation equations for a brief moment in her past, not-so-successful college career.