As he surfed, taking notes of the sites he visited, he didn't want to find anything. He wanted this avenue to turn up as a dead end, just like all the other sites had. Site by site, he checked each page, looking for something that would give him a clue. He couldn't have said exactly what he was looking for. But he would know it the minute he saw it. Something was niggling at the back of his head. Some clue or some sign that he knew he would recognize. And with each site he got through without finding anything that alerted him, he felt relief fill him a little more.

Stubbornly, he told himself that Julia was wrong.

Todd was mistaken.

Morales didn't know what he was talking about.

Henry was killed in a drug deal gone bad.

Ben closed his eyes for a second, not sure why that would be better. Though he knew. It was the difference in dying for a good cause, no matter how much of a waste it was, and dying for all the wrong reasons.

He didn't want to find anything. But on the sixth site he visited, on the contact page, the hair on the back of his neck felt like it stood on end.

Contact Lionel@lusciousladies.com.

Ben scrambled through the piles of papers he had on the desk until he came to that printout of the e-mail he had found buried deep in Henry's files. An e-mail from a TheLion@yahgoogroups.com.

The department computer whiz had searched the address, but just as with so many mailboxes at Yahgoo, it couldn't be traced. Just one more anonymous person drifting through the Internet.

Ben had no proof that this Lionel@lusciousladies.com was the same as TheLion@yahgoogroups.com, but it was the first hint of a clue he'd gotten.

He sent an e-mail to Lionel.

Anger ticked through him even harder and he started to pace. Not being able to sit back and wait, he headed out of the house, intent on finding Spazel. The low-life snitch knew just about everyone in town who was dealing on the dark side.

Ben hit the entry hall just as the doorbell rang. Yanking it open, Ben found a flower delivery guy standing there with a dozen red roses.

"For Julia Boudreaux," the kid said. "Sign here."

He heard a gasp, and when he turned around Julia was there. Foolishly, he felt his chest squeeze at the reminder that Julia had always had many men in her life. He shouldn't care that he was just one more passing through her world. And that was what it was. Just two people losing themselves in sex, he told himself firmly.

Without a word, he left the house, slamming into the Rover, then racing to the south-side bar where Spazel hung out. It was just before noon, and despite the early hour, Ben saw him the minute he walked in the door.

The skinny con man was talking to three less-than-reputable-looking men. Ben could tell he was running numbers, taking bets, earning his living as a low level criminal.

Spaz leaned close and laughed in a deep, macho tone. When he pulled back and caught a glimpse of Ben standing there, his brown eyes went wide and he sort of squeaked, ruining his macho facade.

Ben walked up to the small group. The men looked at him, got a little nervous, and couldn't get out of there fast enough.

"Hey, man!" Spaz protested. "I'm trying to make a living here-" "Cut the crap. What do you know of some guy calling himself Lionel who's involved with an escort service called Luscious Ladies?"

"I don't know nothing about any Luscious Ladies."

"Think harden Spaz," he stated coldly. "We both know you stay in business because I don't turn you in.

Now, what do you know about a guy named Lionel?"

"I swear, I know nothing! The only thing that is close is some guy who tried to start something a few months back. He was running girls out of the Lejos alleyway-" The con man's eyes went wide. "You don't think it's the same guy, do you?"

"Why the hell didn't you mention this before?"

"The guy hasn't been around in weeks. I figured he set up shop somewhere else, or more than likely, he couldn't make it work."

"I need an address."

"I don't have one."

"Get one. Then call me." He wrote down his cell number and stuffed it in Spaz's shirt pocket. "Don't

disappoint me."

To: Ben Prescott From: j.taggart@eppd.gov Subject: Address Ben, I have located a Lionel Esposito. Last known address is 245 Castille Drive. Are you sure Spazel can be trusted?

Tag To: j.taggart@eppd.gov From: Ben Prescott Subject: re: Address Trust Spaz? Hard to say. But it's the first piece of hard information that we've gotten. I'll let you know when I learn more.

Ben To: Ben Prescott From: j.taggart@eppd.gov Subject: re: Address Don't do anything crazy.

T.

Chapter Eighteen.

Ben turned off the computer, then went to Julia's bedroom. He knocked, but didn't get an answer. When he pushed inside, she wasn't there. He knew that before he did anything else, before he searched out Lionel, he had to find her.

What the hell had he been thinking when he got pissed off at Julia when she told him what Todd said? He had taken his shock and his frustration out on her. And before he did anything else, he wanted to right that wrong.

He called the station and asked for Kate.

"I can't find Julia," he said without preamble.

"What do you mean?"

Ben heard the instant tension in Kate's voice, the concern. "Sorry. I need to find Julia, and she's not

here at the house."

Sarcasm dripped into her voice. "Do you think she might not be at the house because you got upset with her when she told you what Todd said?"

He sighed. "That's probably a good bet."

The three best friends defended one another like mother hens and their chicks.

"Well, at least you admit it," Kate stated.

"How upset was she?"

"Very. But I have to tell you, I think she was upset about more than just you flying off the handle."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure. She sounded like she was in a bad place. But she promised that she'd call me as soon as she finished the tram shots."

"Tram shots?"

"A friend of mine is getting her on a utility tram to get some aerial footage of the city that Andrew

wants."

A bolt of concern shot through him. "Utility tram? Not the regular tram?"

"What do you mean?"

"The tourist tram is fine, but somebody's makeshift one that I've never heard of is another story. I'll head

over there now. In the meantime, get her on the phone and tell her to get the footage some other way."

Back in his Rover, he headed to the address Kate provided. Regardless that he was sure Kate would call, he dialed Julia's cell phone number as well. But voice mail picked up immediately, which meant

either she was on the phone, she was not answering his calls, or the phone was off.

"Don't get on that tram," he commanded into her voice mail. "I repeat, do not get on that tram."

Beeping off, he slipped his cell back into his inside coat pocket. He coasted through the stop signs,

then flew onto a road that led up to the mountain.

The 4x4 came to a halt in the gravel makeshift parking lot. He saw her car immediately, along with another SUV.

Ben leaped out, grimaced when his bad leg hit the ground, then headed for the stairs to the platform.

The tram was just sliding away, the operator nowhere to be seen.

"Julia!"

She was holding the video camera in a death grip, the lens pointed out toward the view. She jerked

around when he called her name, her eyes wide with what he was sure was terror. He could hardly believe Julia would be afraid of anything. But even in terror she still had that camera taking in scenic shots.

"Come on, leap off."

"Are you crazy? I can't leap off! Besides, I have to get footage."

He could tell from the stubborn tilt of her chin that despite the fear in her eyes, she wasn't getting off.

So when the car got close to the end of the platform, he did the only thing he could. He leaped through the opening just as the tram swung free into open air.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I came to get you," he muttered, only a foot away from Julia in the cramped space.

"Why?"

"There are better ways to get footage than riding on this thing."

That got her to lower the camera, but only for a second before she whipped it back up just as the city

below burst out before them. They both were in awe of the view, standing there staring, forgetting.