JONATHAN KELLERMAN. A COLD HEART

“Restless,” I said. “The tension could be building up.”

“Well,” he said, “let’s see if he blows.”

Just as I was leaving for a jog, Allison phoned to say she’d had to add three appointments to her patient schedule, wouldn’t be through until 9:30 P.M.

“Crises?” I said.

“When it rains it pours. Are you up for a later reservation?”

We’d arranged an eight o’clock dinner date at the Hotel Bel Air. Fabulous food, impeccable service, and when the weather was kind, which was often in L.A., you could dine outside and watch swans glide on lagoons. Years ago, I’d seen Bette Davis glide across the patio. That night I’d been with Robin. She and I used to hit the Bel Air on special occasions. I thought the fact that I was ready to take Allison was a healthy sign.

“How about ten?” I said. “Will you have the energy?”

“If I don’t, I’ll fake it,” she said.

I laughed. “You’re sure? We can do it another time.”

“ ‘Another time’ isn’t a concept I admire,” she said. “Sorry for the shuffle.”

“A crisis is a crisis.”

“Finally,” she said. “Someone who gets it.”

45

Night three of the surveillance found Petra stationed up the road from A. Gordon Shull’s house. Not nearly as close as Stahl had gotten because fewer vehicles were parked on the street, and she had to blend in. But she still had a nice clear view of the gates.

Stahl had suggested she take the hillside position while he stayed down in the city in the rental SUV. Just about the only thing he’d said to her all of yesterday. He seemed more distant than ever, if that was possible.

He was down on Franklin, in a Bronco. A cute, shiny, black thing Petra had admired in the station parking lot.

“Nice, Eric.”

Stahl’s response was to produce an oily rag, bend down and rub the cloth on the greasy asphalt, flick off flecks of grit and begin dirtying the Bronco’s side panels and windows. Soon the poor thing looked as if it had been driven all day from Arizona.

“Schoelkopf must’ve been in a good mood,” said Petra. “Okaying cool wheels.”

Stahl picked up more parking lot dirt, continued to filthy the Bronco. “I didn’t ask him.”

“You paid for this with your own money?”

“Yup.”

“You might still be able to collect,” she said. “If you put in the voucher soon.”

Stahl did something with his head that might’ve been a nod. If you were looking for a nod. He opened the Bronco’s driver door, said, “Let me know when you’re all set.” Got in. Drove off.

They maintained contact every hour, using a tactical band on the radio.

Four calls tonight, so far, each the same:

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

It was a quarter to eleven and Shull, whom they assumed was home, hadn’t emerged.

Staying in, just as he had last night?

That had been a downer. Sitting, waiting, fighting drowsiness. The crushing boredom Petra detested. At least Shull wasn’t out killing anyone.

Then she flashed an evil grin. Too bad Shull wasn’t out for the kill. This case had been nothing but false starts and dead ends and way too much of nothing and Lord forgive her, she craved some action, was willing to trade public safety for a little adrenaline fix.

What’s a little attempted murder between friends?

A voice in her head said, Naughty girl.

She said, “Up yours,” just to hear the sound of her own voice.

At 11 P.M. she shared another two-word communication with Eric the Dead. Sat back and stared at the black sky above the gates.

She’d avoided fluids well before the surveillance but by now, her bladder was cramping.

Not easy for a girl.

Not that she’d ever complain to anyone.

She was considering her urinary options when Shull’s gate swung open and headlights stared out at the night. The BMW or the Expedition?

She was down in her seat when it passed.

Neither. A Cadillac—dark gray, shiny.

Despite her surprise, she was able catch to the license number. Whispered it out loud in order to commit it to memory.

Stahl had said only two vehicles were registered to Shull. Interesting. She got back on the tac band, told Stahl what to look for. He’d be the primary tail, now, because she was going to call in the plates.