"Hurt anyone?"
He thought of the bruiser at the gym. "No one that matters."
The Judge's voice over the line was calm and practical. "Then why do you need the Phens?"
Jack's voice hardened before he clicked the disconnect button. "Just send the damn pills."
Only afterward did he realize the Judge never answered his question about Olivia.
They met for breakfast because Olivia wouldn't agree to Jack coming to her house. He didn't blame her. She suggested a little mom and pop place near the capitol building. When he walked into the brightly lighted Country Kettle Restaurant a little after eight-thirty, Olivia was already seated at a booth by the window, gazing out at the crowded traffic on Tenth Street.
Sunlight dappled dust motes through the wooded blinds and across the oiled tablecloth. Tension darkened Olivia's eyes to the color of primeval forests and she clenched her fists on the vinyl tablecloth, warily examining him as he sat opposite her.
"What's wrong?" he asked after the waitress brought water and left menus.
Olivia didn't answer immediately, but hunched her shoulders beneath the salmon-colored sweater set that complemented her dark hair. Jack noted her ringless fingers and the utilitarian watch on her left wrist.
The waitress, a lanky, bleached blonde, whose black and white uniform strained against her breasts, returned to take their order. She pulled a pencil from behind her ear. "What can I get you folks?"
"Just coffee and sour dough toast," Olivia said.
"Make that two," Jack added.
The waitress nodded and walked away to place their meager order on the metal roundel.
Apparently Olivia wanted to make small talk before she broached the subject on her mind because after a few moments, she led with, "What made you go into government work?"
"The condensed version is college, marines, government service."
She glanced at his hands. "No wife? No children?"
He shook his head, taking her meaning. "I wouldn't wear a ring anyway."
She looked surprised. "Why not?"
"Too revealing. I prefer to give as little information as possible about myself."
Olivia stared at him over the rim of her water glass, reminding him of a time when keeping secrets was foreign to both of them, and they'd virtually poured out their young hearts to each other. "Tell me about the case," she said, setting down her glass.
"First, why don't you tell me why you called?"
A pretty flush crept up her neck into her cheeks. He waited easily while she struggled with her words. Patience had always come easy for him. Patience and a stubborn doggedness that made him a tough opponent.
The waitress set their toast orders down and poured coffee. "Anything else?"
Jack shook his head and kept his eyes trained on Olivia.
She cleared her throat. "I think a student of mine is in trouble."
He'd expected many things. Her tearing into him was high on the list, followed by anger, accusation, questions. God, lots of questions. She had the right to ask and demand answers. But the unexpected twist caught him off guard.
"Your student?"
"Her name is Keisha Johnson and no one's seen her since Friday." She leaned across the table, desperation in her voice. "I'm afraid something awful has happened to her."
"Has anyone filed a missing persons report?"
"I thought there was a waiting period."
"Not in California."
"Jack," she said, a hitch in her voice, "she's barely nineteen, a freshman. I don't think she'd take off like this without telling anyone."
Olivia could see Jack's razor-sharp mind calculating the possibilities. She breathed out a sigh of relief. Jack knew what to do. He'd help.
"You talked to her friends?" he asked. "Her family?"
"She's from New York. She wasn't planning to go home until winter break." She stirred the coffee and ignored the toast. "I didn't want to be hasty and worry her parents." She lifted one shoulder. "You know, in case it turns out to be nothing."
"But you don't think it's nothing."
She shook her head. "Keisha's very responsible. Her roommate said she went out Friday night, wouldn't say where, just that she'd be back late."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Sometimes girls go to a party and don't come back for a few days."
Olivia held his eyes stubbornly. "This girl's not flaky, she's fast-tracked in her department, and she's on a full-ride scholarship. She's the golden girl. She wouldn't go on some wild, unplanned trip without telling someone. I know something's happened to her."
Jack nodded as if he believed her and took a small spiral notepad and pen from his inside jacket pocket. "Description?"
The waitress swept by their table, poured more coffee, and slapped the check on the table.
"Mixed race, African-American and Islander, I think," Olivia said. "She's about five-foot two, long dark hair, naturally curly, brown eyes."
"I'll check it out, see what I can find," he said after she'd given him the rest of the particulars. He put the pen and notebook back in his jacket. "Now what are you willing to do in exchange for my help?"
She'd expected nothing less than bartering, but Jack's words, stated so baldly, made her flinch. She leveled a hard look at him, feeling her temper rise. The chasm of the lost years and their disconnected lives widened another mile.
"You really are a bastard, aren't you," she said evenly.
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Didn't you expect a quid pro quo?"
Two could play this game, she thought, and put on her bitch face. "Of course," she said smoothly, "I wouldn't expect you to do a favor without getting something in return."
"Good, then," he said. "You won't be sorry."
"I doubt that," she muttered. She was sorry already. "Okay, tell me about this Invictus. A kind of government organization, right?"
He nodded. "Of sorts."
"You wanted to change the world," she murmured, feeling a little sad, "work for the rights of the underdog. Now you're part of the establishment."
"Life changes a man."
"That sounds like a bumper sticker," she chastised, frowning. "So, what exactly do you want me to do?"
"I need your specialized help with the notes."
"Notes?"
"The killer left behind two notes, both written in Latin."
"That's odd. Latin's so – "
"Dead?"
"No one speaks it, but English is rich in Latin references, not to mention the cultural influence." She set her lips in a serious line. "I wasn't putting Mr. Higgins off when I said the university doesn't allow outside consultations."
"I'll take care of that."
"How?" she scoffed "By strong arming the Catholic Church?"
"Don't worry about it. I've got it covered."
Exasperated by his arrogance, she caught her lower lip between her teeth. "What exactly do you think I can do for Invictus?"
"Work with us on the translations, maybe create a profile of the writer. There's probably something we've missed from the original cases, maybe a clue in the notes. We had our own people on it, but they're profilers, not linguists."
He paused as if weighing his words. "Four years ago, we had three… unusual murders. Recently we had a similar murder in Utah. I just came from that crime scene. Finally, we got a lead that the killer may be in California."
A sliver of ice ran down Olivia's spine. "But no one's died, right?" Her words fell over themselves. "I didn't hear anything in the news. Could this be related to Keisha's disappearance?" She heard the raw panic in her voice and fought to control it.
Jack examined her calmly. "Not likely, that'd be a monumental coincidence, don't you think?"
"I never used to believe in coincidence." Olivia's mind rattled with dread, and the clutch of irrational fear grabbed at her throat. She looked into his hard, obsidian eyes.
Until you came back here, she thought.
Tuolumne County, California