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other had a huge camera zoom
lens aimed right at me. They fled when they realized I’d spotted them. I think.
    Or maybe
I was crazy. Maybe I only imagined they fled. Or that they were there at all.

 
    Chapter Eight
    Roots
    AN
IMPULSE SEIZED ME on my way to breakfast. I phoned the detective in Tucson. I
told him about the call. I reminded him of Payton’s missing brother.
    “Don’t
you understand?” I urged him. “The caller said it wasn’t a suicide. I believe
him.”
    “Ms.
Visconti, you don’t even know who him is. The case is closed. It was a suicide, and from what you’ve just told me
about her missing brother she must have never gotten over it. The suicide
serves to confirm it.
    “With
all due respect, these things happen all the time. People with nothing better
to do read something in the paper and get off on stirring things up. And you
have quite a name out there that makes you a special target for weirdos.”
    “It’s
not like I’m a celebrity.”
    “No. But
you have a reputation. People know your name. If you need further assistance, I
suggest you contact your local police department.”

 
    LOOKING
OVER MY SHOULDER all the way, I stormed toward the restaurant for breakfast still
wary about any intrusive intent behind the men and their camera. It certainly
wasn’t the paparazzi unless they mistook me for some Hollywood starlet. I was
already used to the buzzing of low flying helicopters trying to cop a million
dollar photo of anybody who is somebody around the hotel grounds, but that
wouldn’t be me. Maybe they were only
photographing the stunning buildings and landscaping. I just happened to be
square in the middle of their photo shoot.
    The
phone call was another story. The caller knew my name. Was it a warning or a threat he delivered? Why?
    By the
time I entered the café Sukie and Geoff were already gobbling down French toast
and asking for coffee refills. Sukie’s beautiful Asian face, sprinkled with
powdered sugar from the brioche, glistened in the dappled morning sunlight.
    “You
guys certainly adapt well to foreign land,” I joked as I took a seat in the
booth.
    “It’s
all about learning their customs,” Geoff said.
    We each
had a full day ahead. Sterling’s real estate friend had already sold me a beach
house. I was waiting for Carly to work her design magic on it before moving in.
I liked the agent, Gabriella Criscione. She may have been a little over the
top, but she knew Los Angeles and Malibu real estate and she knew how to kiss
ass. It worked for me. Gabri, as friends called her, had now lined up
commercial properties for me to tour. Out of her list of seven, I had zeroed in
on four. The pressure for me to find space and find it fast could have
overwhelmed me if not for Gabri. Key staff planned on working from hotel rooms
and street-side bistros until I could find us corporate offices. Cash is King,
so said my father. If a property had a clear title I could close on it quickly.   
    “Earth
to Lauren,” Sukie said. “That’s not just stress drawing your face up into a knot.”
    Sure, I
had angst about buying an office building. But Sukie made me stop and ask
myself why my stomach felt like I’d swallowed a live Longjaw Mud Snapper.
    “Geoff,
let me ask you something,” I said. “You know all the email texting lingo stuff,
don’t you?
    “What do
you mean?”
    “The
shorthand. Like LOL and JK ?”
    “It’s
not exactly technical information, but yes, I guess I do.”
    I had
memorized Payton’s email.
    Saguaro
National Forest. CAC. 3 Skeletons.
         Import
      “What does CAC mean?”
    Geoff
shot a glance at Sukie and they both shrugged. “I haven’t seen that one,” she
said.
    “Let’s
see. There’s CAS . Crack a smile. CAAC is cool as a cucumber,” Geoff said.
    I
grimaced. No good.
    “It’s
not texting, but what about the Paris Bourse? The CAC-40,” Sukie suggested.
    The
Paris market index? That didn’t make sense, either. Not that I knew.