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  “What about Bratton?” Daniella Wexler asked. The assistant to the secretary of agriculture had helped falsify documents and convinced lawmakers that Agrasom’s products were safe, in return for a big payday. “Does she know it was an independent operator, out for his own gain, that murdered her family?”

  “Probably, but we have no way of knowing for sure. So far, she hasn’t told the police anything, so we can only assume she’s staying in line.”

  “We have to take Miller out,” Ray Duncan said, the urgency in his tone unmistakable. The big man, now in his sixties, had worked for the CIA at one time and had been instrumental in working behind the scenes to help Agrasom establish markets for their genetically modified products in several third world counties.

  Linville was surprised by the urgency in his tone. “What are you trying to tell us?”

  Duncan’s dark eyes were like steel marbles. “What I have to say never leaves this room. Bratton was one of us, working inside Agrasom, when she went off the reservation.”

  The room erupted into shouts as angry voices assaulted Duncan. It took several minutes, but Linville managed to get the meeting under control again. She looked back at Duncan. “Explain yourself.”

  The elderly former CIA agent took a breath. “As I said, Bratton was one of us, but took the research when she left the agency. She was about to become a whistleblower, expose everything, including the role everyone in this room played to support Agrasom. I was about to eliminate the problem when I was made aware she had given the research to a third party to release it in the event of her death. Then Miller came along with his own agenda. That was a game changer.”

  “Did your agency have any idea who the third party was that Bratton gave the research to?”

  Duncan shook his head. “If we knew that, Bratton would be dead, and we wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  After a lengthy discussion about what Duncan had said moved around the room, Linville summarized where they stood. “I want a pledge that everything discussed today and the action we agree to take remains absolutely confidential. If there’s any hesitation, I’m not moving forward.”

  Linville went around the room, as each subject voted, giving her permission to, in the words of Ray Duncan, eliminate the problem.

  When the voting was finished, Daniella Wexler voiced her other concern. “What guarantees do we have that Laura Bratton won’t act independently and release the research?”

  “There are no guarantees,” Linville said. “But there’s a firewall, namely Bratton’s daughter. She has the message that Amy will die if she talks. It’s bought her silence until now, even with Miller’s blackmail scheme.”

  “How soon?” Duncan asked. “When can Miller be taken out?”

  “He’s staying at a hotel in Santa Monica under an assumed name. I will leave immediately after we’re done here. Miller will be dead by morning.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  I thought about stopping by Mom’s place on my way home and having it out with her. If my adoptive dad had been involved in Ryland’s use of the movie studios to launder drug money, it was unforgiveable. And, if my mother knew about everything and had kept the truth from me, that was also inexcusable. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed likely that Mom had known about everything. She was, after all, the same person who had kept the truth about my father from me for almost thirty years.

  The more I contemplated what Woody had told me, the more empty and disillusioned I felt. I decided that I didn’t have the strength to confront Mom tonight. I wanted to just go home and crawl into bed and forget the world. When I got home and saw the small crowd gathered in front of my friends’ mobile home, I realized that wasn’t going to be possible.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Natalie, after Bernie and I made our way through the crowd of our elderly neighbors. I saw that Mo, Tex, and Howie were in a heated exchange with Maude Finch, the president of the Starwood Residents’ Council.

  “That old biddy is accusin’ Tex and Howie of being public nuisances ‘cause of that power outage we had the other night.”

  As I looked over at Tex and Howie, who still hand a faint green glow about them, I wasn’t sure if I could disagree about them being a nuisance. Mo, on the other hand, was having none of what the residents’ council president was saying.

  My friend had her hands on her wide hips and worked her head back and forth as she lectured Finch. “You need to go find someone else to harass. We’re not gonna stand ‘round here and let you disparage our friends.”

  Finch, who wore her glasses on a chain like an elderly librarian, laughed. “Your friends look like a couple of idiots who fell in a vat of slime. They’re dangerous and should be locked up.”

  That set Natalie off. She went over to Finch and wagged a finger. “I’ll tell you who should be locked up. You and your crazy council members should be put in a home for imbeciles. We’ve had it with you interferin’ in our business.”

  “I’m taking this to the full residents’ council,” Finch said. “You and your kind don’t belong here. I won’t rest until you’re all evicted.”

  There was more shouting, then threats by Natalie and Mo to sue for harassment before Finch and her lynch mob finally dispersed.

  “I believe this is a case of millennial discrimination,” Tex said after they were gone. “In addition to the aforementioned legal recourse, I think we should go to the press about what’s happening.”

  “Agreed,” Howie said. He was wearing a pair of thick, wire-rimmed glasses and his hair was slicked back. He also had on an odd shirt that looked a little like a dreadlock wig that Mo had once worn. The term serial killer came to mind as his blue eyes widened and he added, “I have friends in low places that could provide a more permanent and expeditious resolution to our problem.”

  “Stop,” I said. “We don’t want the press or your friends involved in this.” I sighed. “Let me see if I can work things out with the residents’ council in the morning.” I looked at his strange shirt. “What are you wearing?”

  “It’s my latest invention,” Tex said, stepping forward to explain. “The mopshirt will revolutionize domestic engineering.”

  “Huh?” I said, looking at my friends.

  “It’s a shirt that acts like a mop,” Natalie said. “Show her, Howie.”

  Howie got down on all fours, then began rolling around on the ground. Instead of serial killer, the term maniac now came to mind. It made me wonder if Maude Finch was somewhere, taking pictures of the idiotic display.

  “We had him clean our kitchen floor earlier,” Mo said. “The mopshirt works wonders.” She regarded me for a moment, probably realizing I was down. “You okay?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  “We got us a Code G,” Mo said to Natalie.

  “You need to go,” Natalie said to Tex and Howie. “Mo and me got us a girlfriend emergency.”

  After some protests, Tex and Howie left, and Mo marched me over to their mobile home. I slumped down on the sofa, while Bernie followed. Natalie went into the kitchen, where I soon heard her blender whirring.

  “You wanna tell me about it?” Mo said. “Or do I gotta perform CPR on your brain?”

  I dragged a hand through my wayward hair and exhaled. “I got some news about my adoptive dad tonight that was pretty shocking.”

  “Wait,” Natalie said. After a moment, she came over with a tray of icy drinks. “I whipped us up a batch of Poseys. Even if you feel like a piece of cack, they’re guaranteed to make you think you’re okay.”

  I took one of the drinks, deciding to forgo my usual wariness. It had a tropical flavor, the scent reminding me of the flower Palmeria, with just hint of rum.

  “This is delicious,” I said.

  “I’ll have me another one of these, baby sis,” Mo said, after downing her drink. “I gotta put Larry as far outta my mind as possible.”

  “Mo’s gonna bring Cleo the plumber to Nana’s dinner on Saturday night,” Natalie s
aid. “What about that Ross bloke? Is he comin’?”

  “I haven’t had the time to talk to him, but I’ll let you know.”

  “So what gives ‘bout your daddy?” Mo asked.

  I took a couple minutes, telling them what Woody had said. “It’s possible that my mother knew about everything and has kept it from me all these years.”

  They were both quiet, something completely out of character for them. Mo finally said, “To tell you the truth, we’ve both had our doubts that your daddy was innocent of everything. We just didn’t wanna say anything to upset you.”

  “Maybe your mum is one of them crazy narco drug dealers, with a secret life,” Natalie suggested. “It could be she goes by the name Tanya and leads a double life.”

  “I doubt that, but I think my mother does have secrets she hasn’t told me about.”

  “You gonna confront her? Have it out?”

  “When I have the strength. Right now, I’m still in a state of shock.” I finished my drink and asked for another. After Natalie served up more drinks, we all took a few minutes, processing what I’d learned.

  “Maybe me and Mo should go with you when you talk to your mum,” Natalie said. “You might go psycho and whack her with a butcher knife.”

  Mo agreed. “You need some support when you confront her.”

  I sighed. “I’ll let you know.” I decided to change the subject and mentioned the Weber case. I then asked Mo, “You ever heard of a guy called The Keeper? He’s apparently a middle man who holds the kidnapped girls until Jessie Martin can find the highest bidder.”

  My friend shook her head, her blonde wig brushing her shoulders. “No, but with a nickname like that, somebody has to know ‘bout him. I’ll ask around.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “What’s the latest on that family that was whacked?” Natalie asked. “Last we heard, the second wife was goin’ down for everything.”

  “That might still happen, but I still think there’s more to the story. We just haven’t had the chance to follow up.”

  My phone rang. I saw the call was from Brie Henner and excused myself. I then went out to their porch to talk to her.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?” I asked.

  Brie’s voice was filled with emotion as she said, “I just wanted to call and say goodbye.”

  “What’s going on?”

  It took her a moment to answer because she was barely under control. “I’m getting weaker by the day, Kate, and I don’t know how much time I have left.”

  I realized my own emotions were surfacing. This wasn’t the first time Brie had been near death, but I wasn’t prepared for that possibility. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “No, you’ve been the best friend anyone could ever ask for.” Her voice became choked as she said, “I’ve made a decision to go stay with my mother until...” She completely broke down and didn’t go on.

  I brushed the tears off my cheeks and said. “I understand. Can I come by before...before you leave?”

  Through her tears, Brie said, “I’m sorry, but Lily and I are leaving early in the morning. It was the only flight we could get.” She choked up again. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

  I spent several minutes talking to her. I realized that she was emotionally spent and just needed to get away as soon as possible. By the time we said our goodbyes, maybe for the last time, and the call ended, I completely broke down. Other than Natalie and Mo, Brie had been my best friend in the world. I didn’t know what I would do if I never saw her again.

  I went back inside, where I told my friends about Brie and then asked for another drink. As we all tried to come to terms with maybe never seeing her again, I began feeling the effects of the alcohol.

  I stood. “I think I need to go home.” I almost lost my balance and fell over.

  Natalie came over to me. “Take it slow. There’s a reason they call ‘em Poseys. They seem as harmless as a flower at first, but then they sneak up on you.”

  I had the spins and had to sit down. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  “Get her a pillow and a blanket,” Mo said to Natalie, pulling my legs out so that I could lie down. She then told me, “Close your eyes and relax, ‘til you get your bearings.”

  I realized I had no choice but to do as she suggested. I closed my eyes, as sleep began tugging at my consciousness. Despite my exhaustion, saying goodbye to Brie and the events of the past few days skittered through my mind. I thought about the Bratton family, senselessly slaughtered for reasons that we would probably never understand. I then saw images of Valerie Weber, along with the others girls, possibly already sold into sexual slavery.

  Just before sleep finally found me, images of my father dying at the hands of Ryan Cooper again haunted me. But this time, his death had been the result of his own selfish motives. Then, in the shadows of everything that happened, I saw my mother. Had she been part of the conspiracy? Had she known the truth and covered it all up? As the darkness enveloped me, it felt like my life would forever be full of questions without any answers.

  FIFTY-SIX

  The Pacific Grand Hotel was located just south of the Santa Monica Pier. It had a magnificent view of the ocean and, on a clear day, Catalina Island. It was just after midnight when Monica Linville walked through the lobby and took the elevator to the nineteenth floor, where Aaron Miller was registered under the name Charles Morgan.

  Linville was in disguise, wearing a blonde wig and lots of makeup. She had been careful not to acknowledge the front desk staff. She had called room service on her way into the hotel, asking that they deliver a bottle of wine to Morgan’s room. When the service staff got off the elevator, she went over and intercepted him.

  “I’m assuming this is for Mr. Morgan, room 1923,” she said.

  The waiter regarded her. “Yes, but I’m supposed to deliver...”

  Linville handed over a hundred-dollar bill. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Of course,” the waiter said, accepting the offering and handing over the wine. “Will there be anything else?”

  “I’m afraid I left my room key in my car. Could I borrow yours? I’ll return it to the front desk in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s against policy.”

  Another bill was handed over. The waiter pocketed the offering, gave her the key card, and left.

  Linville waited a couple minutes, making sure the hallway was empty, before using the electronic card. She slipped inside the room and moved quickly, finding Miller asleep in the bedroom.

  She laughed as he sat up in bed. “I guess you’re not the adversary...” It suddenly dawned on her who she was dealing with before she could finish her sentence. “You...you’ve been...”

  “Of course, it was me all along.” He rubbed his eyes. “What do you want?”

  Linville raised her weapon. “Just your life.”

  “Wait, let’s talk. I can share...”

  Two bullets ended Aaron Miller’s life and any chance he would ever disclose what he knew about Agrasom. But Monica Linville realized she now had another problem. One that had to also be eliminated, and quickly.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  I got a late start the next morning, thanks to a Posey hangover and because I remembered I’d promised to stop by the Starwood Residents’ Council meeting and talk to Maude Finch. Unfortunately, Natalie and Mo insisted on going with me, and, as we walked into the park’s clubhouse, we were unprepared for what we encountered.

  “That’s them,” an elderly woman said, standing and pointing at us.

  The room had about thirty residents in the audience, along with eight council members and Maude Finch sitting in what looked like a jury box, ready to pass sentence on us.

  “What are you doing here?” Finch demanded.

  “We’re here to defend our rights,” Natalie said. “You got no cause to evict us from our homes.”

  I told my friends that I would handle things. Several re
sidents shouted that we were outsiders, before the meeting came to order, and I was able to address the gathering. “We’re here to apologize for any inconvenience the power outage might have caused. It was completely unintentional.”

  “I missed watching Wheel of Fortune because of you,” a woman shouted. “Vanna was supposed to wear a designer cocktail dress.”

  “I’m sorry you missed your show. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  “That’s right,” Finch shouted, “because you and your friends are being evicted. We’ve had it with your nonsense.”

  That was enough to set Mo off. My hefty friend had on a green wig that she parted like a curtain with both hands and let Finch have it. “You’re nuthin’ but an angry bunch of crazy old bats. You got no right to evict us. If you try, we’ll get our lawyer to countersue you and make sure you never harass us again.”

  “That’s not going to be possible,” Finch said, with a smile.

  Mo worked her head back and forth as she said, “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m now representing the Starwood Residents’ Council,” a man said from the back of the room.

  We all turned and saw Hermes Krump entering the room. Krump had been the lawyer who represented us on our prior eviction proceedings and was now partnered with the TV lawyer who called himself Mean Gene the Suing Machine. Krump was around thirty, about five six, and pudgy, with curly brown hair. While Natalie had once said that his name reminded her of a sexually transmitted disease, I always thought of him as just a mama’s boy with an inflated ego.

  “What are you doin’ here?” Natalie demanded when he came over to us.

  “As I said, I’ve been retained by the mobile home park.” Krump handed me several legal documents. “This is notice of eviction for violating Section 1218.93 of the Starwood Code of Ethics, creating a disturbance that is detrimental to the health, safety, and well-being of the residents. You have thirty days to vacate your homes.”