And then he pictured Forester’s house when he arrived that night-the white of the front columns shimmering under floodlights amid a black sky. No one answered the doorbell. He crept around the side and then the back of the house, feeling terrified, ramped up with a foreboding that screamed relentlessly in his ears.

When he first glimpsed the patio bathed in soft light from Forester’s study, he felt relief, and yet he knew it was false. He knew in his gut it was all going wrong, and he would have to do something he very much did not want to do.

He stepped lightly across the lawn toward the patio. Jazz music spun softly from Forester’s study, out into the night. As he drew nearer and nearer to the patio, a tree still blocking part of it from his view, he saw a plate of food on the table along with a half-full glass of red wine.

His foot crunched on a fallen autumn leaf and he froze, gulping in crisp air, hoping it would somehow lessen his alarm. He stared at that solitary meal. And then he made his feet keep moving, until he was at the patio’s edge.

Sam walked through the living room to the wall of glass that overlooked the blue-gray waters of the Gulf of Panama and in the distance, the Bella Vista and Caledonia areas of the city. Below him lay a majestic pool and fountain. The pool, and the surrounding cabanas and lounge chairs, were big and grand enough for a hotel pool that could accommodate at least a hundred guests, but there were only seven apartments in this complex-all of them considered penthouses-and the funny thing was that rarely did anyone use the pool. Most of the people who owned property here lived in the city during the week and then escaped to their second homes on the weekends. It was in those weekend homes where they lounged by the pool or gazed at the ocean. As a result, the pristine fountain, made from the same yellow marble in the apartments, splashed majestically without an audience.

Sam moved to his left and slid open a pocket door made of cut glass and wood. Outside on the balcony, he stared down at the pool. He should hang out there, he decided. And he would start this afternoon. There was little else to do. He’d taken all the steps he’d been instructed to-the properties had been sold, the money transferred into a series of offshore accounts, mostly in the Cook Islands. Now all that was left was to wait and see if everything would be illuminated or if it would all fall apart. Maybe that had happened already.

51

After the visit to Dr. Li’s I went home, although the place didn’t feel like home so much anymore. With Sam gone, with the break-in, with that guy coming at me in that menacing way, I couldn’t feel safe. Maggie wanted to cancel her court call that afternoon to stay with me, but I told her she had done enough already. I told her I’d probably just been imagining things. I told myself that, too, but I didn’t believe a word I was saying.

I tried Mayburn’s number but got his voice mail. I began to walk around my apartment, hoping the movement would inspire some thought, some action. I wore a path that went around the living room, into the office, down the hall to my bedroom and then back to the living room to start all over again.

In my head, I tried to hold together all the “pieces,” as Mayburn would call them. All the bits of information we had learned. I made myself go over and over the visit with Dr. Li. She’d been shocked when she learned of Forester’s death, but I couldn’t tell if it was just the usual shock people experience when they hear bad news, or whether it was more of a shock because she knew she’d contributed to his death. It still made no sense that she would give an inordinate amount of ma huang to Forester.

I made a loop around my bedroom and was about to head down the hallway, when I stopped. I would have to talk to Dr. Li again, that was all.

I had noticed that the sign on her front door said she was open until six. I looked at my watch. Five-thirty.

I grabbed my coat, mittens and helmet and sprinted down the stairs. As I went around to the garage, I swung my head back and forth, trying to see if anyone was there. The sun was setting, but with all the buildings in my neighborhood, it was almost dark. Anyone could be behind a tree or in the shadows of the neighbor’s porch. I ran to the garage and revved up the scooter. It was really too cold to drive it, but this was the fastest way to get around and I had to see Dr. Li…before she closed for the day.

On the street, I pulled hard on the gas. I sneaked around cars and blasted through yellow lights. When I got to the South Side, I wished I’d taken a cab. I sat at a light on Thirty-first Street, nervously looking over my shoulder. The El track loomed ahead of me, cold and rusted, the small apartments to my right were run-down, a few guys eyed me from a street-corner stance. Without many buildings to crowd the neighborhood, it was brighter here, the setting sun casting a blood-orange glow to the place, making it feel sinister and pulsing with danger. One of the guys on the street corner took a step toward me, a loose, laughing grin on his face that, if I wasn’t mistaken, was fueled by booze. Or something stronger.

The light turned green and I floored the scooter, racing to Dr. Li’s. When I got there, the front door was open and the light on the stairs still on. I took the steps slowly, trying to calm myself down and focus on what I wanted to ask her. When I got to the landing, I saw an old rusted scale in the hallway, her door open.

I stepped inside and saw that much of the office had been cleaned out. All the jars were empty. The books and scales were gone. The shelves were still there, as were the desk and chairs, but the diplomas were gone from the walls. I spun around a few times, wondering what was going on. I noticed a small window overlooking the side of the building. I looked out onto a parking lot, and there was Dr. Li, putting a box in the back of a small white car that looked at least a decade old.

I ran from the room and made my way as fast as possible down the front stairs. I bolted around the side to the parking lot. Dr. Li was just getting in the driver’s seat and closing the door.

“Dr. Li!” I yelled and began running to the car.

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her expression registered fear. She shut the door and turned the ignition.

“Dr. Li!” I reached the car, pounded on the window.

Dr. Li shook her head. She looked terrified now. I took a step back and held my hands up. I didn’t want to scare her. “Please!” I yelled loud enough so she could hear me through the window. “Please talk to me.”

She rolled down the window about six inches. “We talk today. No more talk.”

“Where are you going?”

“Going to be with family.”

“Are you closing your medical practice?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I no want to do no longer.”

“Can I please talk to you about Forester? I have a few questions.”

Dr. Li bit her lip and looked straight ahead, as if someone there could give her the answer. “Forester one of favorite patients,” she said. “I like Forester very much.”

“I did, too. I loved him. And I’m not sure, but it looks like he might have died because of the amount of ma huang you put in his herbs.”

Scared eyes zinged to mine. “I didn’t want to hurt Forester.”

“But you knew that a lot of ma huang could make his heart condition worse, didn’t you?”

She bit her lip harder. “We just want to make him not feel so good for little while. That is all.”

“We? Who is we?”

She shook her head. “I no say.”

I thought of the threats Forester had been getting. Someone wanted him to step down from the company.

“Did someone pay you to put the ma huang in Forester’s herbs?”