“Say, what you got in the truck?”

He stepped forward, blocking her approach. “Just some trash.”

“Trash? I saw how you strained to scoot that load off the dolly. What are you throwing away, barbells?”

“Books. Nothing in the world heavier than books, you know.”

“And you don’t want them? Seems like I see you reading all the time.”

“My interests have… evolved.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you-”

“Camille… I must beg your pardon.” He edged away. “I need to take care of this. Immediately.” He slid into the cab of the truck and started the engine.

“You know, Ernie,” she said through the open window, “you could come over sometime. Ty isn’t around that much these days. We could have some fun, I think.” She reached out and touched him on his cheek.

“Must dash, Camille. Please give my best to your beau.” He rolled up the window and sped away. He drove quickly, but not too quickly, making sure she wasn’t following him.

It should take no more than twenty minutes to get to the hotel, which was providential, because he had a limited window of opportunity during which he could get this bundle into his room without being spotted. From there, delivery to the ultimate destination would be a simple matter.

He tried to whistle again, but he seemed to have lost the tune. The encounter with Camille had unnerved him. It had been a parlous moment, he realized, when she’d reached toward the bundle in the back of the truck. Not that he had done anything to betray himself, nothing she was ever likely to comprehend, this woman who couldn’t master subject-verb agreement and didn’t have the sense to dispense with the psycho stud who was servicing her. But he didn’t like the unexpected. He had planned everything with meticulous care. Any deviation from the designated path could only delay the Golden Age.

I am the perfect passenger. Lisa has told me so on numerous occasions. The absolute antithesis of the bossy backseat driver. I figure if you’re behind the wheel, then you’re calling the shots. I don’t mess with your radio, I don’t tell you when to change lanes, and I don’t plot the course. So I sat quietly as Lisa took me all the way down the Strip, even though this was tourist season (every season is tourist season in Vegas) and the traffic was atrocious.

I love this town. Lived here all my life; never had the desire to go anywhere else. There’s so much more to Vegas than what the tourists see. But the truth is, I love what the tourists see, too. From the austere Nevada mountaintops to the concrete palaces to the sex clubs and the gluttonous buffets, I love it all. Even the Liberace museum. Honest.

My house was in a gorgeous neighborhood called Summerlin, near one of the area’s many man-made lakes. Okay, ponds, depending on what you’re used to. It was just down the road from the largest of Vegas’s many pet cemeteries, where all three of my German shepherds are interred. I sat quietly while Lisa cruised through the south side. But when we were a good twenty minutes or so away from where we should be, I felt I had to speak.

“Are you taking me home?”

“Um, no.”

I sensed immediately that this was a subject she had been deliberately avoiding. “I’ve been gone a long time, Lisa. I’ve got a million things to do.”

“Yes, but… not there.”

I laid my hand on her shoulder. “What gives? Tell me the truth.”

“The truth is…” I could tell this was agonizing for her, which didn’t make me any less insistent. “You don’t have a house anymore.”

“The goddamn bank.”

“Yeah. ’Fraid so.”

“I’m in the hospital for one lousy week and they take the house?”

“They told me you hadn’t made a payment for four months.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind, as you well know.”

“They said they’ve called and written and left messages but never heard anything from you.”

“I don’t recall any messages.”

“And then when they found out you were in detox and no one knew when you might get out, that was it. They foreclosed.”

“Can they do that? So fast?”

“Evidently.”

“Greedy bastards. What do I have to do to get it back?”

The beautiful blond speed demon became a timid little girl. “I… I don’t think you do, Susan. It’s gone.”

“Goddamn it.” I slapped my hand down on the dash. “Goddamn it.”

“I boxed up all your stuff and put it-”

“I don’t care about that,” I snapped. “Where’s Rachel?”

Lisa’s respiration accelerated. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. All bad signs. “Oh, Susan, I’m so sorry.”

“Where is she?”

Her forehead creased. “They’ve put her in a foster home, sweetie.”

“Who did?”

“The state. NDHS. Human Services.”

“I’m sick for one week and they confiscate my niece?”

“Susan, think. You never formally adopted her. She was just living with you, and that was okay for a while. But after… you know… what happened…”

“They had no right. None.”

“They say you can visit. I mean, you can’t take her away or anything, but-”

“I’m her family! I’m the only family she has!”

“I know. I told them. I offered to let her stay with me till you were released. I tried everything I could think of-”

“Apparently you didn’t try hard enough.”

“Hey, don’t kill the messenger, okay?” For the first time, Lisa’s voice rose. “You’re not the only one who’s had a shitty week, you know? I’ve been under continuous fire, trying to straighten out your-”

She stopped just short, for which I will always love her.

“They had no right to take my niece away.”

Still driving, Lisa reached across and squeezed my hand. “Honey, you’re an alcoholic-”

“I am not.”

“-and there’s no way the state is going to let a fifteen-year-old girl stay with a noncustodial nonparent alcoholic with proven violent tendencies.”

“I’ve never hurt Rachel. I would never hurt her.”

“I know, Susan. But you practically killed that chump at the bar, and endangered everyone there, and that’s all they’re seeing.”

“Goddamn it!” I pounded the dash over and over again, which I’m sure Lisa did not appreciate, but she didn’t say anything. “Goddamn them all to hell.”

Showing her usual perspicacity, she let me stew for a while and didn’t speak again until it was necessary. “We’re almost to my place, Susan. Come in with me. I’ll start a fire. You can put on some woolly pajamas and I’ll brew some tea and you can just chill for a while, okay?”

“No. Take me to the office.”

“Susan-”

“It’s no good, Lisa. You know I can’t tolerate just sitting around, and I would hate being coddled even worse. The best thing for me to do is get back to my job and forget-”

She started to cry. This really bothered me because, for starters, Lisa is my friend, and furthermore, it seemed like if anyone should be crying it should be me-and I wasn’t, so what right did she have?

And I wondered what she could possibly be holding back that was worse than what she had already divulged.

“Susan… you don’t have a job anymore.”

No.

“Don’t blame Chief O’Bannon. It’s not his fault. IA was all over what happened, and that boy’s family is threatening to sue the department. O’Bannon had to do something.”

“So-so-” I was having trouble forming the words. “So-they suspended me?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“What? What?”

She pulled up to a light, then turned to face me. “They fired you, Susan.”

“No way. I’ll just talk to O’Bannon.”

“He didn’t want to do it. But he had no choice.”

“This can’t be right. It can’t be.”

“But there are lots of things a trained psychologist can do, Susan. It might be good for you to get away from police work, where there are so many… reminders. This could be a golden opportunity. Look on the bright side.”

Sure. Other than that, how did you like the parade, Mrs. Kennedy? “This isn’t right. It can’t be. I’m the best profiler O’Bannon has, and he knows it. I’m the one who solved the Wyndham killings. I’m the one who-”