I opened the desk drawers and looked inside. In the top left drawer, I found a small photo of Jane and Zac. She was looking at him, her eyes adoring, while he was looking at the camera, his hand around her shoulder. The photo was encapsulated in a tiny red alligator frame.

I went through the other drawers, finding some cosmetics, an extra pair of shoes, some hair products, office supplies. But there was no more research. No notebooks telling me Prince had done something wrong. I decided to take home the information on class action cases and read it over.

I pulled open the drawer with office supplies, found a manila file folder and started putting the class action material in there. As I did so, I noticed some notes in Jane’s handwriting on the back of one of the pages.

I turned the sheet over. Fifteen names were written there in a list, toward the bottom of the page. The first was Carina Fariello. The next ones were Rick Dexter, Jerry Hay, Trace Ritson, Angela Hamilton-Wood. The list went on.

I took it with me to the cubicle Tommy Daley assigned me on Monday. Compared to Jane’s desk, it was barren except for the computer and TV monitors.

I looked up the names on the list on Google. I got nothing for Carina Fariello. I found entries for a number of different men named Rick Dexter. Jerry Hay was a physician. Same for Trace Ritson, who appeared to be a rheumatologist from South Carolina. Hamilton-Wood was also a rheumatologist. As I typed in the rest of the names, most appeared to be doctors. I found a physician locator Web site and typed in all fifteen names, one by one. With the exception of Carina Fariello, whose name I didn’t find, all were physicians. All rheumatologists.

I used the computer to look up rheumatology. Rheumatism is a term used to describe any painful disorder affecting the loco-motor system including joints, muscles, connective tissues, and soft tissues around the joints and bones. Basically rheumatologists, the site said, dealt frequently with arthritis and prescribed treatment for the disease-like the drug Ladera, the one made by King Pharmaceuticals.

I thought of Jane questioning Prince about whether he obtained medical records to learn if certain patients had taken the drug Ladera and, therefore, could be members of a class.

But there was nothing about Jackson Prince on this list.

I went back to Jane’s desk, picked up her phone and started to dial Grady’s number. Grady worked in the medical malpractice department of Baltimore & Brown, my old firm. He defended doctors and had represented some physicians as part of class action cases. He was the perfect person to ask about the topic.

But then there was the last time I’d seen Grady-at the Old Town Ale House. I felt strange now, calling only because I needed something.

Before I could decide whether to call, an intern came up to me. “Izzy, you have a visitor,” he said. “Some guy named John Mayburn. He’s outside.”

“Thanks.” I had forgotten he was coming by to pick up Maggie’s pearl thong. I put it in my purse, along with my cell phone and the list of names from Jane’s research.

Outside, Mayburn was standing on the cracked front sidewalk, his hands in the pockets of a leather jacket.

“I thought this was some big news outfit,” he said, glancing with disdain at the building.

“Nice to see you, too. Here’s your thong.” I handed him the box.

“How’s your head?”

“Fine. I took a couple of Advil. And I’ve got bigger things to worry about other than a headache.” I told Mayburn about seeing Jackson Prince, about his stalking off the set a few days ago. I showed him the paper and the names I’d found in Jane’s desk, which all appeared to be doctors. “The list is probably nothing. I think I’m grasping at straws. But tell me-what would you do if you’d found that list and you were working on a case like this?”

He squinted at the names. “Lots of ways you can go. I’d get all the addresses and phone numbers of everyone here and start by calling them. See if they’ll talk to you. That Carina Fariello is probably a doctor, too, from the sound of it. I’d check her out.” He paused. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about this person of interest thing. I was talking to Lucy and we’re…well, we’re kind of worried about you.”

“You are?” For some reason, this struck me as unbelievably sweet.

“Well, I’m not worried,” he said. “If I was I wouldn’t have you work for me. You’re a cool customer.”

“I was.”

“Why do you say that in the past tense?”

“You sure you’re not worried about me?”

He nodded. “Maybe a little. But not because of my case or anything. We just want to know if you’re all right.”

“‘We,’ as in you and Lucy, right?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly I liked the fact that Mayburn had known me only recently. Sure, he’d met me while I was a lawyer, but in general Mayburn didn’t seem to think of me as Izzy McNeil, star attorney, or Izzy McNeil, fiancée, or Izzy McNeil…anything. He just saw the Izzy I was now-tougher in some ways than she’d thought, but also struggling after the murder of a friend and the fact that she was now a “person of interest.”

So, I just came out with it. “I’m afraid that if I think about it too much, I’ll fall apart.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, like he expected that answer. “What do you usually do when you fall apart?”

“Talk to my friends. My family. Sam.” There was Sam, showing up last again, even though he’d been sending texts all day-Are you okay, Red Hot? I love you.

“Have you done that yet?” Mayburn said. “Seen your friends and family?”

“Yesterday after the memorial. And Sam the night before.”

He peered into my eyes. “Seems like you could use some more of that. Got any other friends you can talk to?”

I almost said, I’ve got you, right?

But we weren’t quite there yet. And then I thought of someone who was there. “I’ve got to go,” I said, “but tell me. How should I check into Carina Fariello?”

“Let me copy that list. I’ll run her name for you, and I’ll check out the docs, too. I’ve got some time after I drop off this thong at the lab.” He grinned. “The guys there are going to love this.” He put the box under his arm, took out his phone and typed in the names from the list.

I gestured to the box. “Don’t you want to check it out?”

He opened it, looked inside the tissue. “Holy mother of God.”

“I know.”

He looked back up at me. “Get one of these for Lucy, and give me an hour on the docs,” Mayburn said.

“Got it.”

He turned and left.

I looked up at the clear, sun-soaked sky. I raised my face, trying to feel a breeze that might blow off the lake. But back here, on the west side, the breeze was barely a tickle.

I thought about Mayburn’s questions about seeing my friends.

Then I lifted my phone and called Grady.

44

“S he finally calls,” Grady said, answering.

“How are you?”

“Trying not to be wounded. You know, every other woman I date calls me too much. You never call.”

“I have a decent excuse.” I told him about Jane.

“Shit, Izzy. You were the one that found her?”

The blood…that scarf…Jane’s lifeless eyes. “Yeah.”

“What can I do?”

“Talk to me about something else for a second? Something I’m researching?”

“Shoot.”

“I’ve got these names.” I told him about finding the list among Jane’s research. I read the names. “Know any of these docs?”

“I took a dep of that Ritson guy once. And I’ve seen Dr. Hay’s name. He’s a Chicago doc. So is Hamilton-Wood. She’s supposed to be good.”

I felt a little piece of disappointment cut into me. “So they might just be the names of expert witnesses? Like maybe on a class action case?”

“Well, probably not just one case. If they’re all rheumatologists, that’s too many for one case. I mean, when you’re hunting for experts, you might blow through a few of them, looking for someone who will give you the right testimony.”