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Nolan tightened his grip on Coltrane’s arm. “You’re not going to make a fuss. We’re going to walk calmly over to that elevator. We’re going to find a nice quiet spot in the parking garage where we can chat.” Nolan squeezed so hard that he cut off the circulation in Coltrane’s arm.

“Whatever you want.”

“Right. That’s a good beginning. Whatever I want.”

Shoppers farther along hadn’t noticed what was happening. Moving Coltrane steadily through the crowd, Nolan reached the elevator and pushed a button. When the doors opened, Nolan shoved him inside. For a moment, they bumped together, and Coltrane felt Nolan’s handgun in its shoulder holster under his windbreaker. The doors rumbled shut, the elevator descending.

“Take it easy,” Coltrane said. “I don’t know what this is about, but—”

Nolan’s eyes were wide with fury. “I already told you what this is about: you stopping.”

An elderly couple in the elevator looked nervous.

The doors opened, and Nolan tugged Coltrane into the parking garage. Along a row of cars, Nolan glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, then shoved Coltrane between two minivans until Coltrane’s back was against a concrete wall. The minivans blocked them from view. “You’re never going near Tash again.”

“Carl, think about what you’re doing. You’re risking your job. You can’t assault me. You’ll lose your badge.”

“Who’s going to tell? You? That I did
this
?” Nolan punched Coltrane in the stomach.

As air wheezed out of him, Coltrane doubled over and sank to his knees, his hands locked tightly to his stomach.

“Or that I did
this
?” Nolan rocketed the heel of the palm of his hand against the side of Coltrane’s head. It knocked Coltrane to the floor. “Answer me.
Who’s going to tell
?”

Sprawled on the concrete, Coltrane didn’t know which hurt worse, his stomach or his head.

“If you’d let us bring you in and protect you, Greg would still be alive. If you’d done what you were supposed to, McCoy wouldn’t be in the hospital. You treated me like a fool and kept me waiting at your place while you went off to be a hero. You had to show me you were smarter than me, that you knew better than anybody how to handle Ilkovic.”

When Coltrane tried to stand, Nolan used the heel of his palm to slam his forehead and knock him onto the floor again. The martial-arts move protected Nolan’s hand while carrying power and not leaving a mark. “Oh, I’ve tried to be a good sport and hide my feelings. I tried to tell myself I’m being too harsh, that you got the job done on Ilkovic, that you paid him back for Greg. Hell, I almost had myself convinced. But then you showed up at Tash’s yesterday and made me and the other guys look like idiots. The next thing I know, she’s asking you to stay, and the next thing after that, you’re taking her to your house, and the next thing after
that
, she spends the night with you. Now if that isn’t fast work, I don’t know what is.”

“Carl—”

“Shut up while I’m talking to you. The way this is going to work, you’re never going to tell anyone about this conversation, and you’re never going to see Tash again.”

His vision blurry, Coltrane peered up at him. “You and Tash?”

“I told you to shut up!”

“What’s going on?” a male voice demanded.

Coltrane shifted his gaze as Nolan pivoted toward the front of the minivans.

A uniformed security guard studied them nervously. He was in his early thirties, tense-faced, rail-thin compared to Nolan, and shorter. He drew a walkie-talkie from a holster on his belt. “I had a complaint about a disturbance.” His voice was unsteady. “Break it up.”

“LAPD.” Nolan already had his police wallet out of his windbreaker, opening it, showing his badge. “I just apprehended a suspect. He tried to get away.”

The security guard narrowed his eyes and assessed the badge. “LAPD?” He looked relieved. “I wasn’t sure what was . . . Do you need any help?”

“I’ve got everything under control,” Nolan said. “You can go back to what you were doing. I’ll handle this.”

“Right.” The guard stepped back. “I won’t get in the way.”

Nolan waited until the guard’s footsteps receded to a faint echo, followed by the thump of a door closing.

He pointed rigidly at Coltrane. “That was smart of you not to contradict me.”

Keeping a careful distance, Coltrane wavered to his feet. His head throbbed. “Why would I? This doesn’t involve anybody but you and me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It involves you and me and
Tash
. Don’t go near her again or I’ll put you in the hospital. Is that plain enough for you?”

“Totally.”

“Then we understand each other.” Nolan turned and walked away.

Propped against the concrete wall, Coltrane held his stomach. His chest heaved. He fought the impulse to be sick. He listened to Nolan’s heavy footsteps, heard them stop, heard a car door, an engine, and tires squealing.

Slowly, he pushed away from the wall. His chest continued to heave, no longer because his breath had been knocked out — but because of anger.

“IS THERE SOMETHING YOU FORGOT TO TELL ME ABOUT CARL NOLAN
?” Coltrane demanded.

It was ten to four. He was using a pay phone at the outdoor pedestrian mall on Third Street in Santa Monica. Despite his injuries, he had managed to get to the mall before Tash arrived. He had photographed the crowd from as many angles as he could without drawing attention to himself. From a discreet position, he had watched Tash and her escorts approach the clothing boutique and enter. He had crossed the promenade and gotten shots of the crowd on the opposite side. With all of his obligations taken care of, he had then done what he had been determined to do since Nolan had delivered his final warning and stormed away — phone Tash at the store and find out what in God’s name was going on.

“Mitch? What are you talking about?” Tash’s voice was taut with confusion.

“Nolan seems to think that you and he are an item. He did his best to beat the hell out of me to prove his point.”

“He what? Oh my God.”

Down the mall from the store, Coltrane warily studied the crowd. “For all I know, he’s in the neighborhood, and he’s going to beat the hell out of me again to make sure the lesson sticks. So if it isn’t too damned much trouble, would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

“This is terrible. I never imagined he’d . . . Are you hurt?”

“Not as much as I’m confused.
Do
you have a relationship with him?”

“No. . . . It’s complicated. I can’t talk about this on the phone.”

“Well, you’re going to have to talk to me about him
sometime
.”

“I will. Soon. I promise.”

“Could
he
be your stalker?”

“Carl? No. He can’t be. I didn’t meet him until a week after I started getting the letters and phone calls. He didn’t know me until then. He couldn’t have started this.”

“Then maybe he’s
continuing
it, making himself indispensable. Maybe he’s the one who bugged your house and started the fire last night. No.” Coltrane immediately corrected himself. “If Nolan did those things, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come at me and risk drawing suspicion. But if he
isn’t
your stalker and he
didn’t
plant the microphones, how did he know I was going to be at the Beverly Center?”

“Walt told him.”

“Walt?”

“After you dropped me off at the sheriff’s station, Carl phoned and asked to be brought up-to-date. Walt explained the plan we were trying. There’s nothing mysterious about how Carl knew where you’d be. It’s not like he had to be listening to the microphone in my living room.”

“I was sure . . .” Head pounding, Coltrane couldn’t resist going back to the same insistent question. “
Why does he think I’m interfering with something you have going with him
?”

“Please.” Tash sounded self-conscious. “There are people here. We have to meet so I can explain. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not sure
what
I’m thinking.”

“It’s innocent. You’re going to have to take my word until we see each other.”

“
When
? You won’t be done at the South Coast Plaza until maybe eight o’clock. That means you won’t get home until around eleven. I need to develop the photographs so you can study them and see if you recognize anybody. That’s going to take until . . . Why don’t you save time and come to
my
house?”

“Love to.”

“Your bodyguards can leave you there and—”

“Hold it. Does Carl know where you live?”

“Yes.” Coltrane remembered Nolan’s long wait at Packard’s house while he himself had gone to the Maynard ranch instead of leading Ilkovic to the trap that Nolan had prepared.

“He might watch your house in case I show up,” Tash said. “I don’t want any more trouble because of me.”

“I can deal with—”

“It’s my problem,” Tash insisted. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll phone him as soon as I get home tonight. I’ll settle this. Believe me, he won’t bother you again.”

“When you finish talking to him, phone
me
. I want to know what this is all about.”

“I promise. You’ll understand everything.” Tash hesitated. “I can’t wait to see you.”

Frustrated, Coltrane listened to the click as she hung up. Slowly, he replaced the receiver. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Tash and her escorts would soon be coming out of the shop. He had to be ready to photograph the crowd as she appeared and walked toward the parking lot. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.

PREOCCUPIED, he worked in Packard’s darkroom, filling the time until Tash would phone him. Having purchased the necessary equipment and chemicals on his way back from the South Coast Plaza, he processed the negatives that he had taken at the clothing boutiques. The next step, that of making eight-by-ten enlargements, would be not only time-consuming but tedious. These were snapshots, after all, not composed artistic images. There wasn’t any creative challenge in developing them or stimulation in debating how to manipulate and crop them for the maximum aesthetic impact. Just get the job done, he told himself.

In this case, a one-hour photo-processing company would probably have done as well, but following Randolph Packard’s example, Coltrane had never used a photo-processing company in his career. Besides, there was always the chance that the film he surrendered would be lost or damaged somehow, and he was too impatient to see the results of today’s effort to take that risk, not to mention be forced to have Tash go through today’s dangerous charade for a second time.

His thought about Packard made him imagine the countless times that Packard had come into this darkroom and done what Coltrane was now doing, transferring prints from the developing tray to a tray filled with chemicals that stopped the development process. He gently agitated the stopping solution, careful to rotate the prints from top to bottom to make sure that the stopping chemicals touched them evenly. Then he shifted the prints to a tray filled with chemicals that fixed the image on the paper, making it permanent. He repeated the process of agitation and rotation, finally placing the prints in a tray filled with slowly running water that would wash the chemicals from them.

He imagined Packard standing in this same spot, lovingly developing the photographs that he had taken of Rebecca Chance. Indeed, he could almost sense Packard within him as he gave in to the irresistible urge to make prints from a different negative entirely, from the film that had been in the camera that he had taken to Tash’s house the previous day. Had Packard felt what he now felt as he made an enlargement and carried the eight-by-ten-inch photographic paper to the developing tray, holding his breath as he gently agitated the solution? Had Packard exhaled as Rebecca Chance’s features appeared before him, just as Tash’s identical features now came to life before Coltrane?

The alluring posture of the two women as they emerged from the ocean was identical. True, Tash wore a formfitting diver’s suit, whereas Rebecca Chance had a more revealing wet, clinging bathing suit. But for all that, they were the same, just as Coltrane felt eerily that he and Packard were the same. Both loving the same woman. Making love to the same woman — in the same bed.

The phone rang, its jangle startling. Despite his anticipation, Coltrane had become so absorbed in Tash’s image that he had stopped thinking about when she would call. He jerked his head toward the phone that he had brought from the kitchen and plugged into a jack in the darkroom. As much as he wanted to grab it, he couldn’t bear letting Tash’s image be ruined by keeping it too long in the chemicals. Quickly, he removed it from the fixing solution, shook fluid off it, and set the print in the washing tray.

By then, the phone had rung two more times. In a rush, he picked it up.

“I’ve been waiting for your call. How did it go?” he asked.

The person on the other end didn’t answer right away. The voice was faint. “Somehow I suspect I’m not the one whose call you’ve been waiting for.”

“. . . Jennifer?”

“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this.”

Coltrane felt a weight in his stomach. “How are you?”

She swallowed, as if trying to suppress emotion. “How do you think?”

“I meant to phone you today.”

“But you didn’t,” Jennifer said.

“I couldn’t. Something interfered.”

“I can imagine.”

“I wanted to explain about the misunderstanding last night.”

“Oh?” Jennifer’s voice was strained. “What misunderstanding is that?”

“Why I was with Tash instead of with you at your parents’ house.”

“I’m not sure there
was
a misunderstanding. I think I understood very well.”

“We have to talk.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Jennifer . . .”

“Get it over with. Talk.”

“I . . .”

“Or maybe this isn’t a good time. Maybe I’m interrupting something.”

“No. I’m alone.”

“Then why don’t you let me in? I’m using a car phone. I’m outside your house.”