Mary, Mary

to the chase. We’d like you to represent us for the rest of the investigation out here. It’s big, and it’s important to us. And, obviously, to the director. This case is going to be huge, unfortunately.”
    I thought of a line from
The Godfather: Part III—“just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”
    Not this time, though. I hadn’t slept much, but I did wake with a clear sense of what this day was going to be about—and it had absolutely nothing to do with Mary Smith, or any other heinous murder investigation.
    “I’m going to have to give my regrets on this one. I’ve got family commitments that I cannot turn my back on.”
    “Yes, I understand,” he said, too quickly to have meant it. “But maybe we could pry you away for just a while. A few hours in the day.”
    “I’m sorry, you can’t. Not right now.”
    Van Allsburg sighed heavily on the other end of the line. When he spoke again, his tone was more measured. I don’t know if I was reading him right, but I got a hint of condescension, too. “Do you know what we’re dealing with here? Alex, have you seen the news this morning?”
    “I’m trying to stay away from the news for a few days. Remember, I’m on vacation. I
need
a vacation. I just came off the Wolf.”
    “Alex, listen, we both know this isn’t over. People are dying here. Important people.”
    Important people?
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Also, I’m not sure if he was conscious of it, but he seemed to start every other sentence with my name. I sort of understood the position he was in, the pressure, but I was going to hold firm this time.
    “I’m sorry,” I told him. “The answer is
no
.”
    “Alex, I’d prefer to keep this between you and me. There’s no reason to go up to Ron Burns, is there?”
    “No, there isn’t,” I told Van Allsburg.
    “Good —,” he started in, but I cut him off.
    “Because I’m turning off my pager right now.”

Chapter 22
    I’LL ADMIT, when I hung up the phone, my pulse was racing a little, but I felt relieved as well. I thought that Ron Burns would probably back me up on this, but you know what? I didn’t even care.
    An hour later I was dressed and ready to go be a tourist. “Who wants to have breakfast with Goofy?” I called out.
    The hotel offered “character breakfasts,” and it seemed like a good way to channel our energies right back into vacation mode. A little corny for sure, but sometimes corny is good, real good, keeps everything in perspective.
    Jannie and Damon came into the suite’s living room, both of them looking a little wary. I held out two fists, fingers up.
    “Each of you pick a hand,” I said.
    “Daddy, we’re not babies anymore,” Jannie said. “I’m eleven. Have you noticed?”
    I put on a shocked expression.
“You’re not?”
It brought out the kind of laughter I was looking for.
    “This is serious business,” I told them. “I’m not kidding. Now, pick a hand. Please.”
    “What is it?” Damon asked.
    But I kept mute.
    Jannie finally tapped my left hand, and then Damon shrugged and pointed to the right.
    “Good choice.” I turned it over and unclenched my fingers. Both kids leaned in for a closer look.
    “Your
pager?
” Damon asked.
    “I just turned it off. Now Nana and I are going to wait out in the hall, and I want you two to hide it somewhere. Hide it good. I don’t want to see that thing again, not until we’re back in D.C.”
    Both Jannie and Damon began to whistle and cheer. Even Nana let out a whoop. We were finally on vacation.

Chapter 23
    MAYBE THERE WAS a silver lining in all of this misery and desolation. Not likely, but maybe. Arnold Griner knew he had exclusive rights to his own story when this terrible mess was all over. And you know what else? He wouldn’t settle for just a TV movie. He was going to try to serialize the whole thing in his column, and then sell it as a prestige project at one of the studios.
Hollywood Under Siege? The War Against the Stars?
Bad titles. That was the concept, anyway.
    He shook his head and refocused on the San Diego Freeway. The Xanax he’d taken was making him a little loopy. He’d kept the caffeine going, too, just to maintain some kind of balance through the day. Actually, the morning commute was the hardest time of his day. It was a daily transition from not worrying as much to worrying a lot and feeling sick to his stomach. The closer he got to his office, his desk, his computer, the more anxious he