She took a deep breath and walked up to the car port. There was no bell, so she hammered on the door. Nothing. She pressed her ear to the metal. Was that the faint sound of rock music coming from inside or was she imagining it? She knocked once more, but again there was no response.

Maybe there was a door or yard around the back. She took out her mobile, using its light to guide her through the darkness. Through the pocket of her jacket she felt the outline of the rape alarm. In her purse was the pepper spray. She would be fine. She was safe. Jesus, this was child’s play compared to what some of those female war correspondents had put themselves through. What was her name? Martha something? She couldn’t remember. But she was sure she would have done this with her eyes closed.

As she moved around the back of the house she spotted a door slightly ajar, a chink of light seeping out from the interior. She stepped towards it and gave it a slight push.

‘Hello?’ she said, softly.

There was no answer. But she could hear some heavy rock from somewhere inside.

‘Is there anyone home?’

As she said it, she realised she sounded ridiculous, like a hockey mom who had called round to one of her neighbours with a cherry pie. She reached out and pushed the door forwards a couple of inches. A little more light flooded out into the night, but still there wasn’t quite enough to see inside. She felt her breathing quicken. Her throat felt dry, constricted. She could walk away now. Go back home to the comfort of her downtown apartment and work from there. But would that not risk losing the story altogether? Perhaps this moment would define her future. Maybe stepping inside meant the difference between success and failure. Despite what her mother had said, she wasn’t a loser. Today she would finally prove to her that she was worth something.

She took a deep breath and then, in one swift action, opened the door, stepping inside. Immediately as she did so she felt nauseous with fear. There was something that smelt bad, like –

‘What the –‘ she screamed as a hand grabbed her from behind.

She reached for the rape alarm in her pocket, but she was too slow. She tried to grapple for the pepper spray, but in that instant her purse was wrenched from her shoulder. Her eyes stretched wide in fear as a gloved hand clamped itself over her mouth. She fought with all her strength, but he was too strong. As she started to scream she felt a rope begin to tighten around her neck. It was then, in the last few moments of consciousness, that she thought about her mother and how much, despite everything, she still loved her.

54

‘Josh – where are you? I’ve been trying to get through to you.’

‘Kate – sorry – I can’t talk now.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

‘I thing we may have a breakthrough. I can’t go into it now, but –‘

‘But shit, Josh. I know I’m not on your team, but I want to follow this through.’

‘No way. I should never have let you get so involved.’

‘But I am involved, or have your forgotten?’

‘You’re a victim in this case, remember, not an investigator.’

‘Oh come on, Josh. Let me in on this.’

‘No.’

Josh could almost hear the anger in her silence.

‘Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it. I’ve got a couple of leads of my own I thought I’d follow through.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Ryan Gleason obviously faked his own death and stole the identity of another man. I’ve got a list of few names I might just check out.’

Was she bluffing? Had she been sent information regarding Carl Reckard?

‘What’ve you got?’

‘I’m not telling.’

Jesus, she could be fucking annoying.

‘Kate, I’m in no mood for these games.’

‘I’m not playing a game. I’m just trying to find out who wants to fuck with my head and possibly try to kill me and me unborn child. I wouldn’t say that was much of a game, would you?’

‘Okay. Calm down.’ He knew what she was capable of. That little episode when she had nearly got herself killed by that maniac albino who’d been so obsessed by Gleason he had taken his name. He couldn’t risk her going off by herself. Not now.

‘This is what we’ll do,’ he said. ‘Meet me at the Parker in ten. Can you do that?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you can come in the car with me and Curtis. How does that suit?’

‘Perfect. And Josh?’

‘What?’

‘Thank you.’

55

He was doing it again. That shifty I’m-not-going-to-meet-your-eye thing. The last time he’d done that was at the beach house, when he had confessed about his relationship with Jules. What did he have to hide now?

‘How are you?’ she asked, as he got out of the car.

‘Fine,’ he said, taking his sunglasses off and pretending to clean them. He could tell that she was scrutinising him. Shit. He hated it when she did that.

‘So where are we off to?’ she asked.

‘You don’t know?’

Kate had not got a clue about Josh’s lead. She knew nothing about the letter or the identity of the man that Ryan Gleason may have stolen. But she couldn’t lower her guard now.

He laughed. ‘Get in, you bullshitter.’ He turned to Curtis, who was in the back seat, tapping away furiously into a laptop. ‘You know, Curtis. Curtis, you’ve met Kate Cramer.’

‘Hi there – how are you?’ said Curtis.

‘Fine, thanks. So I take it you’ve found the name Ryan stole?’

‘Yes, we think so,’ said Curtis. ‘I’m just doing some more background searches now.’ She shot a look towards Harper, a tacit request whether she should reveal any more information. He nodded. ‘We have reason to believe that Ryan Gleason, after faking his death in a car accident, assumed the identity of a Carl Reckard, a paranoid schizophrenic. He had lost touch with his family and friends back home in Russell County, Kansas, and had never made any kind of network of friends here in LA. No-one reported him missing, he never registered with any medical practice in the city – my guess is he couldn’t afford it – and he kind of existed under the radar.’