“I thought you had big business in Washington.”

“My son’s in jail.”

“I should have known,” she said. “When you said, ‘Hmm,’ on the phone yesterday.”

“I’ve only got two weeks,” Sandy said. “We could spend that time looking at each other, or we could get to work.”

Paul came in. He saw Sandy in her purple coat and sneakers and broke into a big smile. “Welcome to Carmel,” he said.

“That’s more like it.”

The phone rang, and Sandy picked it up.

“Law offices of Nina Reilly,” she said.

Strange twist of fate: The phone call actually was official, and for Nina. “There has been a development,” Jaime told her, over a wail of sirens. The D.A. sounded unusually calm, a bad sign.

“What?”

“An assault. On a woman who lives on Siesta Court. Her name is Britta Cowan. She’s at Community Hospital.”

Paul and Sandy had stopped moving around and seemed to be listening, too, though they couldn’t possibly know what Jaime was saying. Nina’s shock must have shown on her face.

“How serious is it?”

“Serious. She was hit in the head with a baseball bat. She’s in surgery. Skull fracture. Her husband is with her.”

“Is she going to make it?”

“Only God knows. I’m just a lawyer. She was found this morning by a janitor at the business where she works in Carmel Valley.” By now, Nina had put on the speakerphone and they were all listening.

Jaime went on, “Her associate says you visited her yesterday, and she went home right after your talk.”

“I warned her, Jaime. About the children. Are her children all right?” She gripped the phone.

“You know, Nina, you and I have known each other for a long time. And I want to tell you something today. I always thought you were bad lawyer material. Because you never listen to anybody.”

“Don’t blame me for this.”

“The timing is right. You talk to her, you set the alarm in motion, and this woman gets hurt. Yes, her children are all right.”

Paul looked like he was going to seize the phone. She motioned him away, then said, “Who did it?”

“You might have some ideas on that.”

“So you don’t know?”

“Forensics is working the site right now. I’m standing here looking at travel brochures and blood, and I didn’t call you for nothing. Now you better speak up. You know who did this?”

“No.”

“You have a guess?”

“I think it was Robert Johnson. Danny Cervantes’s buddy. The man called Coyote.”

“Based on?”

“I did see Mrs. Cowan last Thursday. She told me something about Robert Johnson.”

“What?”

Nina didn’t have much time to decide what to tell Jaime. She ran the legal questions through her head: Was the information privileged? No, Britta wasn’t her client, she was a victim, and this was a criminal investigation. But would it hurt Wish’s case in any way to tell Jaime what Britta had said?

It might. If Danny and Coyote were coconspirators, Wish’s story about being on the mountain made little sense. Wish had gone up there with Danny. The judge would assume they were all together.

But she wanted Coyote found, she was hot with anger at what he might have done, and she knew he was the key to the story. Jaime needed to work harder to find him. She could make that happen.

The truth could only help Wish.

Or was she being naive? A D.A. should never be told anything. Too dangerous, and you never could tell how the information could rebound.

“Well, Nina?” Jaime said. “I called you, remember? Instead of bringing you in.”

“She was seeing Danny last year.”

“I knew that.”

“She went to a bar with him. Coyote was there. He and Danny talked about laying in supplies of kerosene. Danny had hired Coyote. They were talking about making a score.”

Jaime digested this. Danny was in on it. I shouldn’t have said it, Nina thought. But Britta was lying on a gurney with a skull fracture. She had to say it.

“What else?”

“Only her speculations about what she overheard.”

“Her speculations may have led her to the hospital.” Jaime’s cell phone was whistling. Wind, whistling through a parking lot.

“I hope not.”

“Well?”

“That’s all I can tell you.”

“I can send a sheriff’s car over and pick you up and hold you as a material witness.”

“I won’t have anything to add. I told you what she said. She heard Johnson practically confess to the arsons. Maybe you should use your police car to get some police work done, like finding him.”

“You think a hard-ass attitude is gonna win you any points when you come cryin’ to me for a deal? Her speculations are important. Her state of mind, her motivations, are important.”

He was right. “I’ll search my memory. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Nina said.

Jaime took some more time. She heard him whispering to someone, probably an evidence tech.

“You do that. I have to go, Nina, but before I do, there’s one more thing. The victim wrote your name on an envelope.”

Hearing that, Sandy moved her head on her neck, toward Nina, slowly. With portent. She blinked. Meaningfully. It was an oh-shit moment. They had had so many together. It was really great to have her back.

“What was in this envelope?” Nina said with extreme care.

“Nothing. But there was a sentence written under your name. On the envelope. I’m going to read you this sentence and I expect you to tell me what it means, fully and truthfully. Right now.”

Sandy picked up a yellow pad and a pen. Nina said, “Let’s hear it.”

“The sentence reads as follows. ‘Nina, just in case, I heard about a cute artist’s studio for rent.’ ”

“That’s it?” Nina said.

“Don’t jive me,” Jaime said. “Don’t evade. Don’t act like a lawyer. Somebody is out of control and running around cracking skulls. And maybe a whole lot more. Now. What does it mean?”

“We were talking. About vacation places. To rent.”

“I don’t believe you. Shit.” There was another whispered exchange. “I have to go now. But I am going to catch up with you later. So think about it some more. Hard.”

“I sure will. Jaime?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. For letting me know about all this.”

“I thought I might get some help from you in return. Not that I should expect it. In fact, I have noticed that you turned into a maverick. I thought you said your ambition was to be a big shot in the legal profession way back when we were drinking vending-machine coffee between classes.”

“Well, at least one of us turned out respectable,” Nina said.

Jaime laughed. “You may still hit it big. You may be right about jamming us on prelims. I just hope it doesn’t become a fashion among the defense lawyers.” He paused for a moment and when he began talking again he was serious. “But I think you’re lying about the note, Nina. That’s obstruction of justice.”

“I told you. Britta knew Robert Johnson was an arsonist. He lived out in Arroyo Seco. You know about the Child Welfare warrant. Go get him.”

Jaime said, “Maybe it was her husband.” The thought hadn’t even crossed Nina’s mind. She had experienced that feeling of absolute certainty about Coyote that drove all other thoughts away.

“That’s not my bet,” she said. She laid the phone in its cradle.

Sandy took off her coat. “It’s always a barrel of laughs,” she said.

“I’m hoping I didn’t cause this,” Nina said. “I told Britta that she and maybe her children might be under threat from this guy.”

“Then she would run the other way, if she’s sane. And she is sane,” Paul said.

“She wouldn’t contact him. She’s not stupid. He was after her. Paul, listen. She did know something more.”

“What do you mean? How do you know that Britta knew where Coyote went?”

Nina ran her hand through her hair. “The note,” she said.

“I was going to ask you about that. About taking a vacation,” Sandy said.