The pain in his head was like a hammer pounding in a stake. Andre squinted his eyes as he followed the old woman's Cadillac to downtown Castilla, which was a hodgepodge of buildings off I-5 with one main street. Victoria's maid was at the wheel. At least she wasn't spending all his money on extra employees, though he wouldn't be the same way once he had control. He would take the handmaidens to Tahiti, he thought suddenly. He could be a king and they would be his queens. No squatty refugee camp like his father's ratty kingdom had been because they'd cut him off.

The pleasant vision faded almost as soon as it had materialized, shattered by the continued pain inside his skull and the remembrance that the handmaidens weren't anything he wanted them to be.

His cell phone rang and he glanced down at it, recognizing the number as one of the handmaidens'. But which one? He knew this. He knew it a second ago but now it escaped him. He didn't have Bluetooth on but he answered anyway. "Yes."

"I just saw you drive by," Naomi said.

Ah, yes. Naomi. He almost asked her what she was talking about before he remembered he'd told her that he was going to Castilla. Had he told the rest of them . . . no . . . He couldn't now recall why he'd told her. Wasn't she supposed to be on a job somewhere . . . Laguna . . . ? "Where are you?"

"By the hardware store."

He'd seen it on his right as he drove by, he realized vaguely. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw the brown Chevy parked at the curb.

"Did you see the Cadillac in front of me?" he asked.

"The white one? Yeah. Is it hers?"

Suddenly the floodgates of memory opened and he recalled spilling his plan to Naomi. Only Naomi. It was like being really drunk sometimes, or on drugs, this pa.s.sage of time and loss of recall. He'd confided in Naomi that Victoria was the only person between him and his inheritance, which wasn't exactly true now that he knew about the boy.

"It's hers," he confirmed. "Follow her. I don't know where she's going, but she's plotting against me."

"Are you sure?" Doubt had crept into her voice.

"Yes," he said, instantly furious.

"It's just that your memory . . . we've talked about this . . ."

"Stop being a f.u.c.king nurse and get to the job! What happened with Laguna?"

"You said this was a priority."

He hated hearing his words coming out of her mouth, but yes, he recalled bits of that conversation now, too. "Tell me where she goes. I want to know what she's up to."

"Where will you be?"

"At the ranch." The pain was a screech inside his head. "Get rid of her."

"You mean . . . ?"

"Yes! Kill the withered, old b.i.t.c.h!"

He hung up, so angry he could scarcely think. He saw the Cadillac turn into the parking lot next to a brick building and noticed the discreet sign for Merritt Law, her law firm, headquartered in Beverly Hills. Of course they had an office in Castilla. That just showed how much money she had at her control, that her lawyer specifically kept a nearby office just for her.

Hate burned through him. He hoped Naomi would be as good as her word. He needed one of them, just one, to finally do something right for him!

As the businesses along the main street began petering out he made a U-turn to get back to the freeway entrance. He witnessed Naomi's Chevy turn into the lot after the Cadillac as he drove by, glad to keep the Xterra away from the scene, just in case someone had told Victoria what he drove.

Two hours later, his phone awoke him from a trancelike state where the skulls had again chattered at him without moving their mouths. He remembered he didn't want Victoria dead until he'd won her over. The timing was all wrong, he recalled, staring through the windshield in his same place on the ridge above Laughlin Ranch.

"Yes?" he asked.

"It's done," Naomi said breathlessly, and she hung up and was gone.

It was after four by the time West entered the station and his energy was flagging. The day had started early in Miami and he'd been traveling by plane or car through most of it. He'd d.a.m.n near gone straight back to his apartment when he reached the Los Angeles city limits, needing a brief nap, but instead he'd picked up a sandwich and black coffee from a Starbucks and gone in search of Dorcas and Lieutenant Gundy, both of whom were out when he came in.

"d.a.m.n," he muttered, calling Dorcas on his cell. His partner answered that he was at a nearby coffee shop, a cop favorite, with Gundy at that very moment. It was within walking distance so West left the Explorer where it was parked and hoofed over to Donny O's.

Pete Dorcas was still built like a Mack truck. Big arms, thick neck, wide chest, buzzed blond hair, and a Clint Eastwood squint that was the result of vanity, as he really needed to wear gla.s.ses for a mild vision correction but wouldn't. He intimidated practically anyone who didn't know him, which had worked well for West on more than one occasion when they'd taken down a suspect together. Now, Pete grinned upon seeing West and motioned for him to join them at their corner table. "Siddown. How's the globe-trottin' goin'? The lieutenant and I were just talkin' 'bout cha."

As West took a seat, he looked at Gundy who'd climbed from patrolman through the ranks to his current position. A tall, lean man with perfect silver hair, an expensive dark blue suit, and a knotted, yellow tie at his throat, the lieutenant gazed back at West and didn't waste any time before saying, "Captain Paulsen is being relocated and we want you to take your old position back."

West almost said, "His crimes catch up to him?" but knew that wouldn't be political. He was lucky Gundy had taken an interest in having him back. "Look forward to it," he responded instead.

Almost immediately, Gundy, who'd been sitting with a half-empty cup of coffee while Dorcas was working on a piece of peach pie, got up, shook West's hand, and said, "Get the paperwork done. Good to have you back," and was gone.

"Since when do you fraternize with the bosses? And what happened to Paulsen?" West asked.

"Since everybody wants to cover their a.s.s. n.o.body's sayin' it, but Paulsen f.u.c.ked up with you. He got all personal about his daughter and took it out on you. He's also got his own boys, y'know."

West nodded. "I know."

"Too many favors being pa.s.sed out. The kinda s.h.i.t that happens all the time, but it finally got in Gundy's way. Today, I just ran into him here and we'd just nodded at each other when you called, so he invited me to sit down. I think he wanted to see which way the wind was blowin' with you." He snorted out a laugh. "You look like h.e.l.l, by the way."

"All that globe-trotting. Anything more from Martinique?"

Dorcas scooped up the last bite of pie and said around it, "No autopsy report yet, but I did find a California license for Teresa Laughlin. Picture looks like your sister-in-law, so I'm pretty sure it's her. Recently changed her address to a studio apartment on Barrington."

"I know Barrington. Have you been there?"

"You're kiddin', right? h.e.l.l, no. I got me some pie to eat."

West smiled. "All right. Give me the address."

"It's at my desk." The waitress had already left the slip, so Dorcas checked the price, muttered about Gundy leaving him to pay for his coffee, then threw some dollars down and walked back to the station with West. He'd jotted the particulars down in a notebook and he ripped off the page and held it out.

West took it and asked, "Who's working the Cantrell vehicular homicide?"

"Osbirg and Bibbs were on it. It stalled out. Osbirg's out, by the way."

Harold Osbirg and Jay Bibbs were partners who had worked out of their department and had been favorites of Captain Paulsen. Dorcas didn't have to tell West that Osbirg had been removed because of cronyism with Paulsen. Thinking of that, West wondered what had happened to the woman who'd been teamed with Dorcas while West was on leave. "Where'd Jiminez end up?"

"She was b.u.mped from Robbery, so that's where she went back to. She was too good-lookin' to be my partner anyway."

West yawned, thinking of Jade Jiminez. She was an attractive Hispanic woman with a humorless husband who worked for the LA transit system and thought his wife should be promoted faster than her years and ability would prove. "She is too good-lookin' to be your partner," he agreed, then headed out, wishing the paperwork was already processed so he could just get to work.

Back in the Explorer, his thoughts turned to Callie, as they did every time he was alone. He couldn't leave her with Victoria indefinitely. He knew how irascible the old woman was, and he didn't want Callie that far away from him anyway. Maybe after a while, Tucker would settle in and she could come back to LA.

Except that she loves him and he loves her, too, and they shouldn't be apart.

How the h.e.l.l was this going to work? He had a vision of himself burning up the freeway between LA and Castilla every time he got a day off, and that just made him feel more tired.

He picked up another coffee and found enough energy to check out Teresa's apartment. See if there was an on-site manager who might let him inside, although without his identification he thought it highly unlikely.

He caught a second wind about the time he showed up at the apartment complex. There was no one at the manager's office, so he walked down the east side of the building to an inner corner unit, which, according to the address, was Teresa's studio. He cupped his hands to the front window and attempted to peer through a tiny crack in the drapes. He couldn't see much of anything, although he thought the room might be bare. On a lark, he twisted the doork.n.o.b and about fell over when it opened beneath his hand. Aware he was on shaky legal ground, he glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then pushed open the door.

The place was empty and the laminate floor was dusty. There were footsteps in the dust and a line where something had been dragged-bags maybe?-to the door.

He stood outside looking in for several moments, then slowly reclosed the door. If Teresa had been there, she hadn't in a while. Was it a fake address? Dorcas had said she'd recently changed it.

Shooting another look around the premises to see if anyone had noticed him, he headed back to the Explorer. Inside, he placed another call to Dorcas, but only got his partner's voice mail.

"Pete, you said Teresa Laughlin recently changed her address. Can you get me her old one? The studio doesn't look lived in."

He'd just turned the ignition when his phone rang back. Thinking it was Dorcas, he was pleased to see it was Callie's number on the screen. "Just thinking about you," he answered lightly.

"West, your grandmother was just taken to a hospital, I think in Coalinga?" she said in a strained voice. "She was run down in the parking lot of her lawyer's office. Cal is on his way there."

Shocked, West asked, "Run down?"

"Maya was. .h.i.t too," Callie said soberly. "They're both in the hospital."

He was already putting the SUV in gear. "I'm on my way," he said grimly.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Well, well, well. The old b.i.t.c.h might actually die. That'll sure throw a wrench into Andre's plans, not to mention what it'll do to the Laughlins. Ha! Andre doesn't know that I'm following his every move. The man's nuttier than a PayDay bar but thinks he's in total control. Just you wait, Messiah . . . when you've outlived your relevance, your name'll be on the list too.

But for now, just keep doing what you're doing. Besides, there are others that need to be removed too. Luckily, Teresa's already gone, and Victoria could check out at any moment. Once she's dead, everything'll change. Sure, there are a few more heirs to knock out of the way, but I'm counting on you to help me out. Just don't have an aneurysm or something before you get the job done. I don't want to have to do it all myself.

Her mind on Victoria and Maya and West, too, Callie finished preparing the green salad that Maya had begun to make before she drove Victoria to her lawyer's just as the oven timer announced the beef roast was done. Tucker was watching television in the small den off the great room. She pulled out the roast and while it rested, she called to Tucker. She wasn't about to serve him up until she knew what he liked to eat beyond peanut b.u.t.ter sandwiches and pastries. When he didn't respond, she went in search of him. "Tucker, I've got roast beef and a salad ready."

He shook his head. "Non . . ."

"Another peanut b.u.t.ter sandwich?" she asked. Today wasn't the day to get him to change his ways.

"Not hungry."

"Okay." She left him and returned to the kitchen, pouring herself a gla.s.s of ice water. A knock on the back door made her nearly jump from her skin. "Who is it?" she asked, aware her heart was racing. She'd only been at the house a few hours and suddenly she was temporarily in charge.

"It's Teddy," he called from the other side of the door. He rattled the k.n.o.b. "You locked it."

She turned the lock and opened the door. "Is it usually left unlocked?"

"Well, yeah." He exhaled as he entered, dropping down at the kitchen table across from where Callie had set a place for herself. "I just talked to my dad. Guess Maya has a broken leg and arm, and G.o.d knows what else. Victoria's unconscious. Pretty beaten up, sounds like."

Callie felt ill inside. "That's terrible."

"Yeah, b.u.mmer, huh." He shook his head.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked when he eyed the roast.

"Sure. Looks good."

"Maya made everything. I just finished putting it together." She went to the cupboard to pull down a plate and then sliced into the roast, putting a healthy slab on Teddy's plate and adding a portion of the dressed salad.

Teddy tucked in like he was starved. "Good stuff," he said.

Callie's cell phone rang and she leapt up to s.n.a.t.c.h it off the counter. Seeing it was West, she said, "Excuse me," then headed through the butler's pantry and dining room to the great room.

"Hey, no problem," he called after her.

"h.e.l.lo," she answered her cell.

"How are you doing?" West asked, and the sound of his voice made her feel weak.

She sat down heavily in one of the leather chairs. "Don't worry about me. Where are you? Are you at the hospital yet?"

"Just got here. Had enough caffeine to keep me going. Haven't seen Victoria yet. They operated to stop a brain bleed and she's not in a room yet."

"Oh, no."

"Talia got here ahead of me, but now she's on her way to you. I'm gonna hang around a while and see if I can talk to a doctor. Maya's being released. Her daughter's here."

"Good."

Callie heard an engine approaching and glanced toward the front window. An SUV had just broken free of the oak-shaded drive and was pulling to a stop beside her car.

"I think I see the doc now. I'll call you as soon as I know something," West said hurriedly. "Bye."

"Bye," she responded, dragging her gaze from the window.

A few seconds later the front bell rang and Callie walked to the door, expecting Talia. Teddy Stutz must've already been on his feet because he was suddenly beside her as she reached for the door handle. "I don't know who it is," she said.

"Here." He moved in front of her and threw open the door. Callie had been cautious about answering. She'd wanted to make sure it was Talia first but Teddy clearly had no such compunction.

A man stood on the other side. He was handsome with a strong jaw and dark hair pulled back to a ponytail at his nape, held by a thong of leather. His body was lean and in the porch light she thought his eyes were blue. He wore a loose white shirt and tan slacks, and she realized distantly that he looked something like West.

His gaze moved instantly past Teddy to land on her. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Hey, pal, I think that's what we should be asking," Teddy said, then gave him a hard look. "I know who you are. You're Andrew, right?"