“If I decide to take the job, I’ll ask her. I’m asking you now.”

  “Someone tried to poison her. They put bleach in her water bottle. And they tried to run her down. With a car, I mean. We live in Manhattan, so don’t ask me how it’s different from any other day. And she’s seen a man.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “There’s this man. In a trench coat. She says he was wearing a mask, but I thought he was just, you know, heavy.”

  “You saw him too?”

  “Once. They were doing construction on that block, and the sidewalk was all torn up, so we had to go through a covered walkway. All of a sudden, Mom grabs my arm. She’s totally rigid. I think she’s having a stroke or something. And then I see this guy at the end of the walkway, and she goes, ‘That’s him, that’s him,’ and before I could say anything, he turned around and left. By the time I figured out what she meant, I tried to follow him to get a picture, but he was gone.” She lifted a nail to chew, stopped herself, and grimaced. “It might have been a mask; the light wasn’t great, and he wasn’t that close.”

  “How do you confuse a mask with someone overweight?”

  “His face. You know how those Halloween masks always look…thick, I guess?”

  “So, you were close enough to see his face?”

  “I mean, it was just a feeling. Like I said, there isn’t much light in those covered walkways.”

  Enough light, Hazard thought, for your mother to panic. Out loud, though, he said, “This was all in New York?”

  Ayelet nodded. “When we saw him—together, I mean—it was the day before we left to come here. So, you know, I’m worried.”

  “I’m not sure why you’re coming to me.”

  “Well, you know.”

  Hazard settled back in his seat.

  “Because you’re gay,” she clarified.

  “I see.”

  “And because of last night. Mom likes to keep up with that stuff, people getting angry about her, that kind of thing. She lives for it. The local paper had a whole column about your husband arresting you.”

  “Jesus God,” Hazard muttered. Struggling to keep his voice even, he said more loudly, “I meant, Ms. Ames, that I don’t know why you’re coming to me because it seems like the threat to your mother is in New York, not here. And, additionally, because this is something that should be reported to the police.”

  “We talked to the police!” Her foot bobbed faster. She got a nail in and began to chew between phrases. “They don’t want to do anything. They act like it’s a big deal, write everything down, and then nothing. And what am I going to tell them here? I think a crazy person followed me and my mom and wants to hurt us?”

  “Why not? That’s what you’re telling me.”

  “Because you have to do what I say because I’m paying you!”

  Hazard sat forward. Her foot froze. Her body locked up. She wrenched the nail out from between her jaws and tried to match his glare. She looked away first.

  “Not yet,” Hazard said. “And I think, not ever. You overestimate the services I provide, Ms. Ames. This is a one-man agency; I can’t provide around-the-clock protection. And you’re only here, what, the weekend?” He weighed the last part and ignored the little voice that sounded like Somers. “And let’s be honest: we’re talking about an author. An author of fiction. We’re not talking about the President of the United States. Hell, we’re not even talking about the president of the Junior League.”

  Ayelet’s mouth opened into a pink ring of shock.

  Hazard stood to walk her out of the room, but before he could come around the desk, the door opened, and Nico stuck his head in.

  “Em, could I speak with you?”

  “No. Ms. Ames, I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

  “Now,” Nico said.

  “I’m with a client—”

  “It’s about that document scanner.”

  “Good Lord, it’s not broken, is it?”

  “I really need you to take a look at it.”

  Hazard looked at Ayelet, who was fumbling through her tiny purse, to Nico, who was all shaggy, hard-eyed insistence.

  “One moment, please,” Hazard said, and he let himself out into the reception area. As he made his way over to Nico’s desk, he said, “Did you jam it? It can do forty pages per minute, Nico; if you were pushing it and you jammed it, then this is your fault.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Is it the feeder tray? The reviews all said that it was solid, but the little brackets holding it onto the scanner itself looked flimsy. Did you lean on it?”

  “No, I—”

  “Did you maybe prop yourself up with it when you were reaching for something? Just tell me the truth. I won’t be mad.”

  “Emery, the scanner is fine! Forget the goddamn scanner for one minute; I’m trying to talk to you!”

  “It’d better be fine! It cost almost five hundred fucking dollars! Why would you scare me like that?”

  Nico grabbed his head like he was about to tear some of that oh-so-shaggy hair out of his scalp. He made a strangled noise. Then he said, “You are going to take that case, Emery.”

  After a few blinks, Hazard said, “Of course I’m not. The whole story is suspicious. In fact, I’m half-inclined to think that she’s involved somehow. Bleach in a water bottle? Give me a break. Besides, they’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “Emery. Hazard. You are taking this case.”

  “Are you hard of hearing? How loud is the scanner? Are you going to need some kind of hearing protection gear?”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Anything over eighty-five decibels—”

  “Emery!”

  Hazard caught the look on Nico’s face, regrouped, and asked, “What am I missing?”

  “Do you know who Loretta Ames is?”

  “She’s an author. Or she was. When I looked at her bibliography, I saw that she hasn’t put out anything in almost twenty years.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have to write so much as her name again, and she’ll still be one of the most important authors of the last half of the twentieth century.”

  Hazard raised an eyebrow.

  A hint of a flush rose in Nico’s cheeks, and he added, “In queer YA horror.”

  “So, kind of like winning the Dore County beauty pageant, ages twelve-to-fourteen, barnyard animal division?”

  “Can you turn it off for a second? This is actually important.”

  “Nico, I don’t understand why—”

  “Because, Em, that book was really, really important to a lot of people. To a whole generation, actually. And it opened the floodgates on queer YA writing. And because it’s a really fucking good book. And because she’s a symbol, even if not everyone knows who she is anymore, and there are still people who would do anything to make her go away.”

  Hazard frowned. “Tell me. Succinctly.”

  “Her first book is the one that changed everything. Katabasis. It came out in, um, ’93, I think. It’s kind of fantasy. Kind of horror. It’s about these kids who find their way into an underworld, only there’s this carnival down there—”

  “I did say succinctly, didn’t I? Or did the scanner really damage your hearing?”

  “It’s hard to summarize. It’s got all these queer characters. They’re high school kids, and none of them is a stereotype, and it’s set in this small town in the ’90s, so it felt real and current, watching these kids figure themselves out, watching them fall in love, watching them fight this ancient, cosmic horror. It was incredibly humanizing, to kids and to adults.”

  “How do you know this?” Hazard frowned. “You weren’t even alive in the ’90s.”

  “Yes, I was.” The flush deepened, and Nico must have known Hazard wanted to add, Barely, because he hurried to say, “Anyway, I took a class on queer literature, and we read Katabasis, and then I had to read the rest of the series, and—look, Em, it’s not just a normal book. And Loretta Ames isn’t just a normal author. She’s brave, too. When that book came out, she got death threats all the time. People would show up at book signings, and they’d throw things, shove her, one time somebody set her car on fire. She never backed down.”

  “Nico, I’m willing to accept that this woman was a transformative cultural figure, but playing babysitter for two days—”

  “None of the cases we have right now is pressing. You’re caught up on all of them. You’re ahead on some of them, actually—you could wrap them up early if you didn’t want to lock things down perfectly. Two days, Em. That’s all. And you’ll get paid way more than you would working any other case. And you’ll be doing a public service.”

  Hazard snorted. “And the rest of it, Nico.”

  Nico tried for the boyish grin and ran a hand through his thick mane of hair. “If—and I’m seriously saying if, Em—if she asks, you know, if she can do anything for you—”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I just want her to sign my copy! That’s all!”

  “That’s what this is about!”

  “No.”

  “God damn it, Nico.”

  “No, what I said, all that stuff—”

  “Go get your damn book.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Go get your fucking copy of her fucking book.” When Nico didn’t move, Hazard roared, “Now!”

  Nico slid off the desk, grabbed his keys, and took two steps toward the door. “Are you sure—”

  “Now, Nico! For fuck’s sake!”

  “Thank you, Em!”

  “What do you not understand about now?”

  “You’re doing something really important.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that on my deathbed I’ll remember how you barged in and strong-armed me into—” The words skidded to a stop. “Wait a minute. How did you know I was refusing the case?”

  Nico’s face smoothed out so quickly that it looked like a magic trick. “I’ll just go get that book right now, Em.”

  “Can you hear me when the door is shut?”

  “Better hurry. I don’t want to leave the phones—”

  “Nicolás Timoteo Del Corazón de María Flores!”

  “You seriously remembered all that?”

  “Nico!”

  All of a sudden, Nico grinned wickedly. “I thought the best one was when I heard you having that argument—I assume with Evie—about wearing underwear the right way.”

  “My God, I wish it was Evie. That’s why I told you not to put Shaw’s calls through. Wait, you thought—”

  “And then I thought it was when you got in that argument with John-Henry and kept using the phrase ‘our wedding Tupperware,’ which I never figured out what that meant.”

  “It’s exactly what it—” Then Hazard cut off. His face caught fire. Because he knew.

  “But then,” Nico said, smirking, “I forgot my wallet when I went to get coffee, and it was the day after your birthday.”

  “Go away now, Nico. Or I won’t ask her to sign your book. And you’ll be fired. And I’ll murder you.”

  “I don’t think I’d ever heard the phrase ‘my ass met God’ before.”

  Hazard chucked the stapler, but it hit the door as Nico pulled it shut behind him.

  The door to his office opened, and Ayelet stuck her head out. “If you think I’m going to sit around all day—”

  “There’s a contract,” Hazard snapped, “and the retainer. And then, when my treacherous, eavesdropping assistant gets back, we’ll go see your mother.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MAY 15

  FRIDAY

  10:14 AM

  THE ACADIA WAS THE hotel where Hazard and Somers had held their wedding reception, a grand dame along Wahredua’s revitalized river walk, brick the color of a good blaze, limestone milky white. On the fourteenth floor, Loretta Ames had taken one of the upgraded rooms—not a suite, but not the economy option either. Hazard sat in one of the two chairs while water ran in the bathroom—presumably to cover up the sounds of the argument between Loretta and Ayelet, which had started the minute they’d arrived. He waited. Waiting was often its own kind of opportunity.

  The rooms had been updated since Hazard’s last visit; regular traffic kept the Acadia steadily occupied and, therefore, profitable, and the old lady had a reputation to maintain. Whoever they’d hired had done a good job of balancing the hotel’s classic design with modern aesthetics: cream-colored flocked wallpaper; crisp, white linens; and dark hardwood accents—the headboard, an escritoire open now and supporting a laptop. The air was sweet and floral and recycled; attar of roses circulating through the HVAC system. On the far wall, floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on the Grand Rivere, where the late morning light made a drop-stitch pattern on the water. One door to the bathroom. One door to a connecting room, presumably Ayelet’s. Two large suitcases, the kind airlines charged extra for. He considered going through them, but that was when the water shut off.

  Ayelet emerged first, her face twisted in a scowl, flexing and opening one hand like she was fighting the urge to chomp down on a nail again. Loretta, her mother, came next. She was black, her skin about as dark as Hazard had ever seen, and Hazard kicked himself for all the assumptions up until now—especially since Ayelet was white. Petite and plump, she had her hair buzzed almost to her scalp. On someone else—on a man—Hazard would have said it made her look like a jarhead. She wore boots and jeans and a t-shirt that had GPS coordinates on it, and she must have been in her fifties, but aside from a hint of gray in that short hair, she didn’t look it. When she met Hazard’s gaze, she laughed, the sound surprisingly deep.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Hazard. My parents used to do that, and I’d wonder who they thought they were fooling. Now I’m doing it, and I tell myself it’s politeness, that’s all.”

  “I’ve heard arguments before. Believe it or not, I’ve been in a few myself.”

  She laughed again at that. Ayelet had taken up position in one corner of the room, leaning against the tall windows, arms snugged up under her small breasts. Instead of taking the open chair, Loretta sat on the edge of the bed. She kept her legs spread wide.

  “Greece,” Hazard said.

  She glanced down at her t-shirt.

  “Am I close?”

  Her smile was jagged; it made him think of the drop-stitch light on the water. “The Isle of Lesbos, Mr. Hazard. That’s very impressive.”

  He made a noncommittal noise.

  “I would like to send you back to your office,” Loretta said, “but my daughter refuses to see reason. And, of course, I’ve spoiled her terribly, so once again, I’m going to let her have her way.”

  Hazard looked between the women again.

  “My partner when we adopted was white,” Loretta said. “It made things…easier.”

  “It’s unfortunate that had any bearing on the process.”

  Loretta’s expression didn’t change, and Hazard realized how stupid he had sounded.

  Water dripped once, a single plonk that came from the bathroom. It cracked the moment open again.

  “I understand that, in addition to wasting money that we don’t have, and in addition to giving in to the scare tactics these people like to use, my daughter has also been telling tales out of school.”

  Still staring out the window, Ayelet blushed as she chewed savagely on her nail.

  “Why don’t we start with you telling me what’s been going on?” Hazard asked.

  “It’s nothing unusual, Mr. Hazard. It’s nothing special. Someone is trying to kill me. Unfortunately, I’ve gotten rather used to the idea.”

  “What, specifically, has happened?”

  “Ayelet said she told you.”

  “I’d still like to hear it from you.”

  “The bleach in my water bottle. Someone trying to run me down while I was out for a walk. And the man who has been following me.”

  “And before that?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You said that this isn’t unusual. What was the most recent attempt on your life before these?”

  Loretta’s complexion was too dark to reveal a blush, but she shifted her weight on the bed, and her eyes cut toward the window, the river, the green unfurling of silver maple and sycamore along the river.

  “I see,” Hazard said. “Anything else this year?”

  “No.”

  “Last year?”

  “No.”

  “The year before—”

  “Mr. Hazard, it’s all—in my life, I’ve come to disregard this kind of thing. I can’t tell you how many times it’s happened.”

  “But you can’t tell me when the last time was, either.”

  She didn’t respond to that. Ayelet, though, had stopped mid-chew to stare at Hazard.

  “Let’s start with the details of each attempt,” Hazard said. “In chronological order, please. Was the water bottle the first?”

  “No.” Loretta’s tone had roughened to a chop. “The car.”

  “All right. What happened?”

  “I was out for a walk. A car came up on the curb. It would have hit me, only someone screamed, and I got out of the way.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “I don’t know. Brown. Someone said it was a Cadillac. And no, Mr. Hazard, nobody got the plate. A city with nine million people, every one of them with a camera, and nobody got it.”

  “What about the driver?”

  “I don’t know. Someone said it was a man. Then, a week or so later—”

  “Hold on. When was the car?”

  “April, I think. Early April. Ayelet?”

  “The fourth.” At Hazard’s questioning glance, she continued, “I looked it up later, after we talked to the police. I was waiting for an agent to call; that’s how I could go back and figure out what day it had happened.”

  “I see.” To Loretta, he said, “Would anyone else have known about your walk?”

  “I don’t know how they could.”

  “Was it a routine?”

  “Well, I like to go for a walk—”

  “It’s a routine,” Ayelet said. “You go at almost the exact same time every day, Mom.”