“I feel the same way about you.”

“Okay.” She stepped back and sniffed. “What do you need?”

“What makes you think I need something?”

She pursed her lips and waited me out.

“Okay, I need you to watch a twelve-year-old homeless girl who is trying to outrun a curse that will kill her soon if I don’t stop it.”

Fingers crossed.

It took her a moment, but she finally nodded. “I can do that on one condition.”

“Name it,” I said, elated.

“The curse. It’s not contagious, right? I have enough shit on my plate without death looming over my head.”

“It looms over all our heads,” I reminded her, bringing her in for a hug.

“I suppose it does.”

“Also, I need you to hack into ADA Nick Parker’s computer, both work and home, and see what he has on me.”

“Of course you do.”

“I feel a blackmail situation coming on. And I need you to get ahold of that sexy doctor dude. The one who lost his license for prescribing Oxy to his patients and then buying it back from them.”

“Okay, but I don’t think he can get ahold of any more.”

“I don’t need Oxy, but thanks. Heather’s been sick, and I need to know what’s going on with her as soon as possible.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n. Sure you don’t want to crawl back into bed with me for a while? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I’m sure you would.” Her offer didn’t sound half-bad, actually, with my recent forced vow of abstinence, but I preferred outies over innies. “What happened to Tre?”

“Oh, he’s still around. But he doesn’t consider my relationships with women cheating.”

“That’s very pervy of him.”

“That’s Tre for ya. By the way, who’s Heather?”

* * *

After I got Heather settled and explained that I was going to have a doctor come look at her while I looked into her situation-slash-curse, I left her in the capable-ish hands of Pari.

They’d hit it off beautifully once Heather found out Pari had not only an Xbox but a PlayStation as well. They would have a ball.

I swung by the office before heading out to interview some of Emery Adams’s friends and associates as well as look at the scene where her car was found. Cookie filled me in on what she’d found that morning over lunch—a.k.a. my third meal of the day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. But the minivan boys were back, and I wanted them to follow me inside the restaurant. To familiar ground.

Also, Reyes was there, so I was basically leading the lambs to slaughter should they try anything. Valerie brought our plates as I read the report on Geoff Adams Jr., Emery’s father, that Cookie had given me.

She was still absorbing the Heather dilemma and having a hard time with it. “Twelve?” she asked, heartbroken. “How is that even possible? How has she survived?”

“I don’t know, hon, but we’ll find out. He’s had a very eclectic career.”

She nodded. “And she’s been sick?”

“Yeah, poor kid. That’s why I need you to find out everything you can about Harbor House. Pari’s hacking their files, but I want to know what they project to the community. And who does the projecting. If nine children have really died there in the last seven years, I want to know why there hasn’t been an investigation.”

“Of course. She could stay with us, you know.”

I turned to the next page. “I thought of that, but we have so much going on. Who would keep an eye her? A racetrack? Really? He tried to open a racetrack?”

“Yeah, that fell through. Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Oh, right.” I took a bite of my nachos and went back to reading. “An upscale billiards room.”

“Failed.”

“A chain of restaurants.”

“Failed.”

“This guy sank a ton of money into one venture after another, and yet they all failed miserably before they even got off the ground.”

“He certainly doesn’t have the head for business his father did.”

Every few sentences, I’d look into Reyes’s office. He’d been on the phone since we got there, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His gaze would lock with mine occasionally, at which point I’d duck my head and start reading again.

Cookie had collected a ton of articles on Mr. Adams. He hadn’t struck me as a man this careless. This wasteful and sloppy and irresponsible. He’d struck me as being rather intelligent.