Public Secrets

toward a victim in the web. She shook her head, knowing at any moment he would ram her and send her crashing over the edge.
In desperation, she jerked her car to the left, surprising him by taking the offensive. It gave her an instant, hardly more. But even as he approached again, she saw the headlights gleam from the other direction.
On a prayer, she took her last chance and poured on the speed. The oncoming car swerved, brakes high and shrill, horn blasting. She caught a glimpse of the car behind her veering back to the right at a dangerous speed.
For a second, she was alone, around the next turn. Then she heard the crash. It echoed with her own screams as she hurtled down the winding road toward the lights of L.A.

M C C ARTHY HAD BEEN right. Not only did Michael feel better after a meal and an hour’s break, but he thought more clearly. As a second-generation cop, he had not only his contacts to call on, but his father’s. He made a call to Lou’s poker buddy who worked in Immigration, to his own contact in the Motor Vehicle Administration, used his father’s name with the FBI and his own with Inspector Carlson in London.
No one was particularly pleased to be called on after hours, but the meal had made it easier for him to use charm.
“I know it’s irregular, Inspector, and I’m sorry to bother—oh, Lord, I totally forgot the time difference. I am really sorry. Yes, well, I need some information, background stuff. Robert Blackpool. Yeah, that Blackpool. I want to know who he was before 1970, Inspector. I should be able to connect the dots after that.” He made a note to himself to contact Pete Page. “Everything you can find. I don’t know if I’ve got anything, but you’ll be the first—”
He broke off when he saw Emma running in, glassy-eyed, with a trickle of blood on her temple.
“Please.” She collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”
He cut Inspector Carlson off without a word. “What happened?” He was beside her, taking her face in his hands.
“On a road up in the hills…a car…tried to run me down.”

“Were you hit?” He began to search frantically for broken bones.
She heard other voices. They were crowding around her. A phone was ringing, ringing, ringing. She saw the lights revolve. The room followed it before she slid out of the chair.
There was a cloth against her head. Cool. She moaned, reaching a hand to it as she opened her eyes.
“You’re okay,” Michael told her. “You just passed out for a minute. Drink a little of this. It’s only water.”
She sipped, letting her head rest against his supporting arm. She could smell him—her soap, his sweat. She was safe again. Somehow she was safe again. “I want to sit up.”
“Okay. Take it easy.”
She stared around, waiting to settle. She was in an office. His father’s office, she thought. She’d seen it when she’d stopped by earlier in the week, wanting to see where Michael worked. It was very plain. Brown carpet, glass walls. The blinds were closed now. His desk was ordered. There was a picture of his wife on it. Michael’s mother. Looking beyond, she saw another man, thin, balding.
“I’m sorry. You’re Michael’s partner.”
“McCarthy.”
“I met you a few days ago.”
He nodded. She might have been concussed, but she was lucid.
“Emma.” Michael touched her cheek to make her look at him. “Tell us what happened.”
“I thought I was imagining it.”
“What?”
“That someone was after me. Could I have that water?”
“Sure.” Because her hands were shaking, he closed his over them on the cup. “Who was after you?”
“I don’t know. Before I left London, I…maybe it was my imagination.”
“Tell me.”
“I thought someone was following me.” She glanced over at McCarthy, waiting to see the doubt, or the amusement. He only sat on the edge of the captain’s desk and listened. “I was almost sure of it. After so many years with bodyguards, you just know. I can’t explain it.”
“You don’t have to,” Michael told her. “Go on.”

She looked at him and wanted to weep because he meant it. She would never have to explain to him. “While I was in New York, I saw someone watching the loft. I was sure Da had hired someone to look out for me. But when I asked him, he said he hadn’t, so I decided I’d been wrong. The first night I was back, a car followed me home from the market.”
“You never mentioned it.”
“I was going to, but …”