Hooking a three-pointer, my headlights aimed through the Manitow gate, I paused, half hoping someone would notice and show themselves. No one did and I headed back toward Sunset, passing the unmarked. Movement there, too, but the drab sedan remained in place.
I drove east, trying not to think about anything. On the way home I stopped at a twenty-four-hour drugstore in Brentwood and bought the strongest Advil I could find.
Friday morning, I woke up before Robin, just as the sun whitened the curtains. My jaw felt tender, but the swelling wasn’t too bad. I drew the covers over my face, pretended to sleep, waited till Robin had risen, showered and left. Not wanting to explain. Eventually, I’d have to.
Using the bedroom phone, I called Safer’s office.
“Good morning, Doctor. How’s your battle wound?”
“Healing. How’s Stacy?”
“She slept soundly,” he said. “I had to wake her to get her to school on time. Lovely girl. She even tried to make breakfast for my wife and me. I hope she survives her family. Psychologically speaking.”
I thought about Stacy’s little speech about self-determination, wondered if it would stick.
“What she needs,” I said, “is to separate from her family. Achieve her own identity. Richard expects her to go to Stanford because he and Joanne did. She should