'I'll think about it,' Anna said, but she wouldn't leave her house.

'Do that. And I need you back this afternoon, if you can make itwe got a shrink and a serial killer profiler, they're gonna want to talk to you.'

'You're sure he did both Jason and Sean?'

'Trippen talked to Wyatt, and they think so. He says there's a level of violence there. You don't see it on the average murder. And this Sean was tied to the Jason guy, and Jason was tight with you.'

'All right.' And she knew himbut who was it?

Harper and Creek were waiting in the lobby when Anna got out. Louis was wandering around with the truck, waiting. When Creek saw Anna step out of the elevator, he dug out his cell phone, pushed a speed dial, got Louis: 'We're ready.'

'Are you headed home?' Harper asked, as the three of them walked down to the exit.

'I guess,' Anna said. She glanced at her watch. 'The night's shot.'

'Are you moving out of your house?' Harper asked.

'No.'

Then I'd like to come by and look around,' he said.

'Bad idea,' said Creek.

Harper turned to him: 'Look, I used to do this for a living. I want to see where she liveswhat the place is like. If the news is bad, I want you to help get her out of there. I'd just as soon she didn't get carved up until I find the guy who did my kid.'

'That's very sentimental,' Anna said.

Harper shrugged: 'I've got priorities.'

Creek was nodding: 'And you've got a point.' To Anna: 'Maybe I should stay over.'

'Good idea,' Harper said.

Anna shook her head, said to Creek: 'You'd drive me nuts.' And to Harper, 'When he lays around the house, he lays aroundthe house.' Nobody smiled at the old vauderville line.

'This ain't a comedy routine,' Creek grumbled. Then: 'Maybe we could get the cops to send somebody over, protection.'

'Fat chance,' Harper said. 'You know how many serial killers are running around L.A. right now? Probably a half-dozen.'

Anna grunted, 'Huh,' and glanced at Creek. 'Half-dozen?'

'No,' Creek said, following her thought, shaking his head. 'We ain'tdoing no story on that.'

Anna sent Creek and Louis home in the truck. Louis was shook, having talked with the cops twice in two days, having had statements taken. Louis thrived in anonymitysought it, treasured it. 'Everything's gonna be okay, right?' He was anxious, twisting a shredded copy of the L.A. Readerin his hands.

'Yeah, for us,' Anna told him. 'You guys take the truck, go home, get some sleep.'

'I just don't want anything to happen to us. to you,' Louis said, eyes large. 'I mean, if anything happened to you. what'd happen to me?'

'It'll be okay, Louis,' she said, giving him a quick smile and a pat on the back. 'I promise.'

When she told him she'd ride with Harper, Creek took her aside to whisper furiously: 'What the fuck is this? You don't even knowhim, he could be, you know, the guy.'

'Nah, we know what he's doinghis kid,' Anna said.

'Oh, horseshit,' Creek said in exasperation. He added: 'You started acting perky as soon as we met him outside the house, and now you're starting again.'

'Perky?' That made her mad. She put her hands on her hips and started, 'What are you.'

'Figure it out,' Creek said, and he stalked off to the truck. When he got there he turned and said, 'And what about Clark?'

Smack.

But he was in the truck and kicking it over before she could think of a proper reply.

Harper drove a black BMW 740IL. The cockpit showed as many ant-sized instrument lights as a jumbo jet. A half-dozen golf putters cluttered the passenger side. Harper popped the passenger door for Anna and tossed the putters in the back.

'Nice car,' she said, when he climbed in the driver's side. Cars were about four-hundredth on her priority list of Important Things in Life.

'Freeway cruiser,' he said, indifferently.

'And you play a little golf, huh?'

He looked at her, cool, and said, 'I do two things: I practice law, and I play golf.'

'I mean, like. seriously?'

'I'm serious about both,' he said; and she thought he was a little grim. Good-looking, but tight.

'Chasing a little white ball around a pasture.'

He looked at her, still not smiling: 'If golf was about chasing a little white ball around a pasture, I wouldn't do it,' he said.

She turned toward him, her face serious, touched his arm. 'Would you promise me something?'

'What?' The sudden, apparent intimacy took him by surprise.

'Don't ever, ever, evertry to explain to me what golf is really about.'

This time he grinned and she thought: Mmm. Harrison Ford.

At her house, he took a flashlight out of the trunk and walked once around the outside, checked the bushes, said, 'Ouch, what the hell is that?' and a couple minutes later, 'Good.'

Inside, he looked at the windows, including the boarded-up back window, and said, 'Leave the board for the time being,' and, 'You need to get some empty beer cans or pop cans. Before you go to sleep at night, stack them up inside the door. If anybody tries to come through, it'll sound like the end of the world.'

'Okay.'

'Your bushes scratched the heck out of me.'

'That's what they're for.'

'Okay. You got a gun?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

'Let's get it.'

He followed her upstairs to the bedroom, and she took the gun from its clip behind the bed's headboard.

'Smith amp; Wesson,' she said, handing him the chromed revolver.

'Good old six-forty,' he said. He checked the ammo: 'With three-fifty-seven wadcutters. You're in good shape. Do you know how to shoot it?'

'I went through a combat class when that was the fad,' she said. 'I go up behind Malibu every year or so and shoot up a gully, like they showed us. Ten feet.'

'So keep it handy,' he said. He handed the gun back, glanced at the quilt on the bed, said, 'Old-fashioned girl, huh?'

She opened her mouth to say something when the doorbell rang. They both looked at the head of the stairs: 'Uh-oh.'

'Probably not Aunt Pansy with a fruit pie,' Harper said, glancing at his watch.

'You think a killer is gonna ring the doorbell at'she glanced at her watch, too'five-oh-five in the morning?'

'Probably not,' he said. 'Let's go see. you go first.'

'Why me?'

''Cause you've got the gun.'

That seemed practical, if not particularly chivalrous. She led the way down, feeling slightly silly, gun in her hand, paused in the hallway, then whispered back, 'Now what?'

'Get away from the door and yell,' Harper suggested.

The doorbell rang again as they stepped into the kitchen and Anna shouted, 'Who is it?'

'Me. Creek.' Creek's voice, all right.

'Oh, boy,' Anna said. She went to the door, slipped the chain and pulled it open. Creek slouched on the porch, and his eyes stopped briefly on Anna and then flicked back to Harper.

'Just thought I'd check,' Creek said. To Harper, 'You all done?'

'Yeah, I'm done. I need to talk to Anna for a minute, alone. Then I'll be out of here.'

Creek nodded and stepped back on the porch, and pulled the door shut.

'Sorry about that,' Anna said. And she was thinking that Creek showed up at fairly inconvenient times.

'Yeah, no problem.' Harper took a slender leather wallet out of his jacket pocket, took out a thin gold pen, found a card and scribbled on it. 'My home phone. The office phone is on the front. Call me if anything comes up.'

'And you've got my card,' Anna said drily. He must've taken it from her purse.

'Yup.' Unembarrassed.

'I think we should let the police.'

She was talking over him, and only caught the last part: '. boyfriend stay over, it'd be another layer.'

She stopped: 'What?'

'Maybe you oughta have your boyfriend stay over,' he repeated. 'He'd be another layer between you and the killer. He's a big guy.'