“What kind of friend are you, Miss Civic?” he asked. “How far are you willing to go to help your friend Zo??”
He hoped it wasn’t to the ends of the earth. He had only a half tank of gas. He needn’t have worried. They went only as far as Napa.
He stopped his SUV when Miss Civic halted in front of a house farther down the block. She walked up the walk, carrying the gym bag, rung the bell, then went inside.
He didn’t see her, but he didn’t have to. He knew he’d found Zo?’s hideout.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The doorbell rang. Instinctively, Zo? got up off the sofa to answer it. Jarocki came flying out of his office.
“I answer the door, remember?” he said.
She did, but enforced captivity was proving to be a difficult adjustment. Coming and going as she pleased was so natural to her that suddenly trying to remember she couldn’t leave the house was like trying to remember how not to breathe.
“Go to your room,” the therapist said.
Despite the situation, the parentlike instruction brought a smile. She did as she was told and went to her room. Getting out of sight was a protocol set by Greening.
A moment later, Jarocki called out, “It’s OK. It’s Inspector Greening.”
Returning to the living room, she found Greening manhandling half a dozen grocery bags and a pasta-making machine through the door. Jarocki relieved him of the equipment and a couple of the sacks and led him into the kitchen.
“Glad to see you’re sticking to our rules,” Greening said.
The afternoon heat was spilling into the house. She went over and closed the door. “Dr. Jarocki is keeping me honest.”
Greening dumped his bags on the countertop. “I think I got everything you requested. That should keep you busy.”
Keeping busy was the name of the game. It had taken her only twenty-four hours to discover that witness protection sucked. No leaving the house meant no self-defense classes, no gym, no jogging, no shopping, no working, and no barhopping. Mothballing everything that defined her and kept her busy was driving her crazy. Even prison inmates got an hour of yard time. She’d always thought her life was empty until she’d been forced to stay confined. That was why she’d decided to throw herself into a pursuit like cooking, which would fill the hours.
“Do you have a few minutes to discuss some issues?” Greening asked.
“I have more than a few minutes,” Zo? answered.
“Do you need privacy?” Jarocki asked.
“If you don’t mind, Doctor.”
“No problem.”
When the therapist returned to his room, Greening took a seat across from Zo? on the sofa.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’ve discovered there are only so many DVDs one person can watch back-to-back.”
The inspector smiled and jerked a thumb in the direction of the groceries. “Hence the shopping list.”
She smiled back. “Hence the shopping list.”
“Look, I know it’s tough, but it goes with the territory, I’m afraid. Just hang in there. Stick to the rules, don’t do anything reckless, and you’ll be fine.”
The bruising to her throat, which she felt every time she swallowed, guaranteed she wouldn’t be doing anything reckless. As long as Greening and the SFPD did their part and caught the Tally Man.
“Do you have everything you need for now?”
“Yes, your officer brought over the rest of my things last night. What’s the latest on the investigation?” she asked.
Greening’s smile fell away and she knew the direction of this conversation before it started.
“We have your place staked out should he return. Our people have been through your apartment looking for forensic and trace evidence but haven’t found anything useful.”
“I could have told you that. He’s careful. He doesn’t make mistakes.”
“He does—or you wouldn’t be here now.”
His answer took the sting out of her. “What about the investigation in Mono?”
“Sadly, that’s at a standstill. Whatever he used those sheds for, it wasn’t to bury bodies. The dogs found no trace. The forensic team did find some possible blood evidence, but it’s so degraded, it won’t be of much use. The detectives there are working with the people at the Smokehouse to see what customers were there the night you and Holli were. If he ate there, we could have a credit card record, which could lead us to him. Also, they might be able to track down a witness who saw something.”
It was maddening to hear. Everything was so tenuous, built on maybes and possiblys. She could feel her anger building up inside.
“None of this sounds like you’re any closer to finding him.”