"It's fine. They put in bionic motors and steel cables-I'm like the Terminator now, me and the governor."

She studied the scar, then folded my fingers, and gave back my hand. She pushed out a smile we both knew was fake.

"How about that drink?"

"Coming up."

She had flown out to meet with the prosecutors about Ben's part in his father's trial. Though I had been cut, Richard had been shot, and almost died. He probably would have been happier if he had. Richard Chenier had hired three mercenaries to kidnap his son, and five people had died before it was over. Richard had not personally pulled a trigger, but because he had set the kidnapping in motion, he was an accessory before the fact and a de facto accomplice. Under California law, Richard could be and was charged with the murders. He currently resided at the County-USC Medical Center, where he awaited more surgeries and, eventually, the trial. Lucy told me as she sipped her drink.

"The judge agreed to hear Ben's testimony on videotape, but I wanted to be sure they understand that's as far as I'll go. I will not bring him to court, and I will not allow him to take the stand."

"Why doesn't Richard save everyone the trouble and plead out? That would be easier for Ben."

She had more of her drink.

"This is part of the process. He's facing two first-degree counts and three in the second, but his lawyers want a reduction to negligent homicide on the firsts and a pass on the rest."

Lucy stared at nothing for a moment, then sipped again and shrugged.

"They'll probably end up at two counts of manslaughter if they can agree on the sentence. Richard has to do time. I'm sorry he was hurt, but he has to pay for this."

She finished her drink with a tinkle of ice, then looked at the glass as if its being empty was just another of life's inevitable disappointments.

She said, "You know what? I'm tired of being nice. I'm only sorry for Ben and what this is doing to him. Richard deserved everything that happened to him."

I reached for the glass.

"Here. I'll make another."

She held out her glass, and our fingertips laced. Neither of us moved. We were locked together like two grappling wrestlers frozen by tensions neither could overcome or escape-

– then Lucy dropped her hand, and pretended nothing had happened. I should have pretended that, too.

"When are you going back?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. I have to see the D.A. again in the morning, then I'm flying out of LAX."

Tomorrow afternoon. I turned away to make the drink. I filled her glass with fresh ice, then cut a wedge of lime and sprayed it over the ice. I tried to pretend I was calm, but my hope was probably obvious. I stopped messing with the drink, and looked at her. Tomorrow left the night to be filled.

"Would you stay with me tonight?"

She shook her head without even considering it, but her voice was kind.

"Just make the drink, World's Greatest. And tell me what I can help cook."

We were both on uneasy ground. You take great care on the thin ice. Go slow, and you just might make it across. I smiled, sending word that we were okay again and I would not pressure her. I freshened her drink instead.

"How about spaghetti with a putanesca sauce?"

She waved her hand, looking pleased with my choice.

"Bring it."

"I've got Italian sausage in the freezer. We could grill it, chop it in the sauce."

Waved the fingers again.

"Bring it all."

The Watcher

Frederick worked his regular shift, opening the station as usual until he handed the pumps off to Elroy that afternoon. Elroy bitched about not having heard from Payne, and it was all Frederick could do not to string up the skinny bastard on the hydraulic lift and stab him in the eyes, but Frederick was too practiced for that-he pretended to be exactly the same Frederick that Elroy expected-unaware of Payne's fate, and unaware of the terrible vengeance that had been visited upon Payne by Elvis Cole, and the even more terrible vengeance that would soon be visited upon Cole in return. If Elroy suspected anything else, he gave no indication. Nor did Elroy see the pair of vise-grip pliers that Frederick lifted from the service bay as he was leaving. Frederick planned to torture Cole just as Cole had tortured Payne-by tearing away his skin with the pliers.

Frederick returned to Los Angeles that afternoon. Cole's house was a vicious crouched spider clinging to the edge of a cliff, all mean angles and shadows. The carport was empty, and two women were walking a dog past Cole's house, so Frederick continued on. He parked at a nearby construction site, then hunkered down behind an olive tree to keep an eye on Cole's house.

A few minutes before six that evening, a car parked outside Cole's front door, and a woman got out. She didn't knock or ring the bell; she let herself into Cole's house with her own key, which gave Frederick pause. A woman might be named Elvis as easily as a man. Maybe Elvis Cole was a woman. Then he remembered that James Kramer had spoken of Cole as a man, so Frederick decided she was probably Cole's wife. He was deciding whether or not to murder her, too, when a dirty yellow Corvette came around the curve and turned into Cole's carport. It was one of the old Corvettes from the sixties, what they called a Sting Ray. Frederick sensed this was Elvis Cole; more than sensed it, he knew it, and knew that Cole was wearing a disguise as perfect as Frederick 's own; the dirty car, the jeans and knockaround running shoes, and the stupid Hawaiian shirt with its tail hanging out were a pretense. Cole was pretending to be a regular man to hide his true self-a relentless killer-for-hire with a heart of hot ice.

Frederick 's suspicions were confirmed in the next moment when Cole reached under his shirt, pulled out a pistol, and let himself into the house. Frederick tipped forward, expecting gunfire, but no shots rang out.

Now Frederick didn't know what to do. He had planned on killing Cole as soon as Cole arrived, but Cole was armed and expecting trouble. If Frederick went to the door, Cole might shoot him on sight.

A little while later, a third car appeared, this one also driven by a woman. She parked across Cole's driveway. When she got out of her car, Frederick saw a badge clipped to her waist. Frederick wondered if she had come to arrest Cole, but when Cole answered the door, he let her in with a beaming smile.

I was searching the freezer for sausage when I remembered about Starkey. Starkey was coming over. She was probably on her way.

"Hey, you remember Carol Starkey? I forgot. She's coming over tonight."

Something like interest flickered in Lucy's eyes, but then she smiled.

"I guess you forgot, all right."

"It's nothing like that, Lucille. Starkey's tracking a juvie file on someone I'm trying to find. I have to get these articles to her, so I invited her for dinner. No big deal."

The articles were still on the counter.

"I'm serious. Is it better if I leave?"

"Absolutely not. If I'd known you were going to be here, I wouldn't have asked Starkey. She'll understand."

Lucy and I were thawing the sausage when Starkey knocked.

I said, "That's Starkey."

"Ask her to stay. I mean it."

I called out that I was coming and went to the door. When I opened it, Starkey flipped away a cigarette, blew a geyser of smoke toward the trees, and came in with a square pink bakery box.

She said, "Whose car is that?"

Lucy stepped out of the kitchen as Starkey came inside. Lucy was holding the package of sausage and a knife. She smiled nicely.

"Hello, Detective. It's good to see you again."

Starkey stared at Lucy as if she couldn't put a name to her face.