“I’m sorry, Abby. I couldn’t-”

I put a finger to his lips. “Don’t be sorry. I understand.”

He took my hand and kissed it. “When my parents died, it seemed right to leave my sister with Linda. Linda cared for Doris for years. Structure and routine are important for Down people. When I got the call after Linda had the heart attack and died, the doctor wanted me to put Doris in a group home.”

“But you couldn’t do that,” I said.

He shook his head, lips tight.

“Do you plan to find someone like Linda here?”

“Yes, but that won’t be easy. That’s why I don’t want anyone to know I’m back, or they’ll be calling me out on cases. I need time. Does Kate have contacts in social services? I can’t exactly put an ad in the paper and hire the first person who shows up.”

“I’ll ask. In the meantime, how are you?” I put my hands over his.

“I won’t lie. This has been harder than any homicide I’ve ever worked. At first I planned to do what the doctor said. But it seemed wrong to send her off to live with strangers.”

“How functional is she?” I asked.

“She can’t fix her own meals-unless you call opening a package of cookies fixing a meal. But she can take care of herself in every other way-dressing, the bathroom, you know.” His ears colored with embarrassment and his hands balled into fists.

I rubbed those white-knuckled hands, trying to ease his strain. “I’ll help you any way I can.”

He leaned forward and kissed me. “Thanks.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of Big Red. When he had two sticks of gum working, he said, “Did you look for the GPS device?”

I picked up my purse, took the thing out and placed it on the table. “You were right.”

“Ah. Easy to tail someone with this.” He picked up the little box and turned it over several times. “No identifying marks-looks like the manufacturer’s label has been removed. This thing sends your location to a satellite and-”

“Oh, I know,” I said. “Then someone picks up the signal on their little handheld computer loaded with fancy software. This spy stuff doesn’t come cheap. Why did I ever trust those TV jerks for a second?”

“You think they’re the ones who tracked you?”

“They have the money,” I said.

“If it was them, how did the killer find Billings?” The smell of his gum filled the space between us, and I was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but him.

I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe the killer was the one who put that thing on my car. Or followed the Venture investigators who were following me. I probably had my own motorcade.”

“Come on. I think you would have noticed.”

“The idea that a murderer could put this under my bumper is scary. Without any identifying information, can we find out who bought this thing?”

“Give it to DeShay,” he said. “Our tech guys might recognize the brand, or might be able to activate it and find out where the signal is being downloaded.”

“I don’t think that will work, Jeff. When I disabled it, I probably clued in whoever was receiving my location information. They know I pulled the plug.”

“You’re the computer whiz, so I don’t doubt you’re right, but it can’t hurt to turn it over to DeShay and Don, see what the department can do with it.”

“Will do.” I checked my watch. “Wish I didn’t have to go, but I promised to meet Emma. Can I do anything for you? Pick up groceries, maybe?”

“Yeah. That would be good. Taking Doris to the supermarket would get her all revved up-something that’s not hard to do. Linda was great with her, but from the number of empty Coke cans I found at the house where they lived, I’ll bet Doris drank at least a six-pack a day. Maybe you can convince her that there’s a better Texas Coke-one without caffeine as well as sugar.”

“Mind if I ask her what she likes to eat-so we can at least wean her off her bad habits slowly? I mean, who better for the job than the queen of bad habits?” I grinned.

“Sure,” he said. But when I started to get up, he gently grabbed my wrist, gave me one of his intense blue-eyed stares. “You were great with her. I can’t tell you what-”

“Shut up,” I said.

He nodded, chewing his gum like crazy, and wearing the saddest smile I’d ever seen.

I blinked back tears as I went to talk to his sister.

20

Emma was waiting for me outside the production trailer when I arrived in her neighborhood. She’d had plenty of energy earlier, but now she held her left arm close to her body, and her eyes showed her fatigue.

“I didn’t want to talk to Mr. Mayo or Chelsea alone, and I can’t get near my house without their approval. I thought I’d just wait on you.”

“Let’s go for it,” I said.

She climbed the two steps to the trailer door and knocked. I was right behind her.

Chelsea let us in with a “Hi, y’all.” Besides her new-found and very bad Texas accent, she’d really taken to Nuevo Western wear and wore a straight denim dress, braided belt and new boots that were red, white and blue.

Emma said, “I’d like to see the house, but the workers at the barricade said I have to get a badge or something.”

From beyond the curtain that separated the front of the trailer from the back, Mayo called, “Chelsea, who is that?”

“Emma and Abby,” she shouted.

Then came the dreaded, “Send them back here.”

I rolled my eyes and Emma whispered, “Great.”

He was sitting on one of the couches watching what looked like an episode of Reality Check, a remote control in hand. By his ruddy cheeks and angry expression, I had a feeling he didn’t like what he was seeing. He turned the TV off and looked at us.

“I’m very glad you two turned up.” Mayo smiled, his flush fading.

Uh-oh. He’d flipped too fast, sounded way too nice.

Emma beat me to my own question, saying, “What do you want?”

“First off, things have been very tense this past week, and I’d like to put that behind us. Sometimes I lose sight of the fact that most people have no clue what it takes to be a show runner, to be the person who makes certain a program is produced on time and within budget.”

“Is that a long-winded apology?” I said.

“You could say that. My job is to see that the construction and the interior design are done, that we have drama in our episodes that touches America. The unfortunate discovery under your house has eclipsed any thought I might have had of making your story our sweeps winner in November. I lost a very wonderful story to Kravitz.”

“Are you whining, Mr. Mayo?” I didn’t like this guy one bit-even when he tried to be human.

“Maybe I am. There’s no circumventing the effect a dead child would have on our demographic.”

I started to respond, but Mayo held up a hand. “Let me finish. Paul’s program with Emma’s story will draw better Nielsen numbers than the episode of Reality Check we now must air that same week. He’ll have the superior show because of the work I did. Now, this goes no farther than this room. I will pay you, Ms. Rose, pay you whatever you want, to make sure Paul is… shall we say, hindered.”

I stared at him for several seconds, not believing what I’d heard. “I don’t get it. Aren’t you executive producer of both shows?”

He cleared his throat. “In name only. We have all sorts of titles in Hollywood, some of them meaningless. Paul has almost full control of his program, but that’s not the point. Those higher up than myself have gotten into the mix. They’ve told me to finish Emma’s house giveaway as we promised, give it plenty of local attention. A crime discovered during the filming of an entertainment program like Reality Check? That’s the program they don’t want from me, but they do want it on Crime Time.”

I was beginning to understand. Egos. Turf. Nielsen numbers. First Kravitz wanted my help and now this guy. “How am I supposed to hinder Kravitz?”