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Of course, she hadn’t anticipated the house in Bel Air would look like a Normandy estate. Nor that each of them-Jerry, Grace, Laurie, Timmy, Leo, and Alex-would have a separate room, complete with en suite bathroom and king bed topped with the smoothest sheets Laurie had ever felt. Now she and Timmy had woken up to find a fully catered meal waiting for them in the kitchen, courtesy of Jerry’s careful planning.

“Can I have a bagel?” Timmy said, starting to flip through the assortment on the tray.

“Please don’t touch every single one, okay?” Nine-year-old boys had no concept of germs. “And of course you may have one.”

“And may I have butter and cream cheese and lox and fruit salad?”

“You may. Just make sure you leave enough of everything for everyone else.”

“You mean, no hogging.”

“Exactly.” Where did he learn this stuff?

She was watching Timmy smear cream cheese on a poppy-seed bagel when Jerry walked in. He was dressed as casually as she’d ever seen him, in a yellow polo shirt and navy chinos. His hair was still damp from the shower. “Oh, excellent. Craft services has already been here.”

“You know we’re not filming here today, right?” Laurie clarified. “We’re doing our preinterview with Keith Ratner.”

“I know. But having them provide the food is really not much more expensive than going out to eat, plus it saves time. They’ll be here for all three meals with cleanup at night unless I call them off. And I figured, why not indulge on our first morning? Besides, we saved so much money on this house that we could afford to have the extra catering.”

She gestured for him to look at their surroundings. Next to the open kitchen was an enormous living room, complete with a fireplace and three separate seating areas. The dining room could easily accommodate sixteen people. Outside, a swimming pool fit for a resort sparkled in the sun.

“I find it hard to believe that this house fits within a budget set by Brett Young.”

“It does for us,” Jerry said, beaming with pride, “because we got it for free.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s right. When I called Dwight Cook to set an interview schedule, I told him that the location for the summit session was to-be-announced and that we’d be finding a house near campus. Turns out he bought this place for his parents when REACH first hit it big. His parents decided a couple of years ago that they needed a smaller place, all on one floor. I guess he won’t sell it because of capital gains taxes or something I’m not rich enough to understand. He has a property manager handle it as a high-end rental for movie shoots and whatnot. But we got it for free. Are you mad?”

“That the house came from Susan’s coworker at the computer lab?”

He nodded. “I probably should have run it by you, but I figured you were busy enough without having to micromanage those kinds of details.”

She had been swamped, but it would have been nice to know that they were receiving a subsidy from Dwight Cook. It certainly was not the first time they had received assistance from someone involved in a case. For “The Graduation Gala,” they filmed the entire show at the home of the victim’s husband. He had even paid participants additional compensation out of his own pocket to guarantee their presence. Still, the journalist in her cringed a little.

Jerry helped Timmy pour a glass of orange juice. “I figured it was okay since Dwight’s not even a suspect. He was a friend of Susan, and let’s face it, he’s so successful that crashing in his empty house isn’t exactly a deep reach into his wallet. Plus in the Graduation Gala case-”

“It’s okay, Jerry. You don’t need to explain. I would have made the same decision. We just need to disclose it during the show.”

Laurie’s own job would be easier if she started trusting Jerry more to make autonomous decisions.

“The house is really pretty,” Timmy said, setting down his orange juice glass. “Thank you for finding this place for us, Jerry.”

“My goodness. If you could bottle up that sweetness and sell it in a can, Dwight Cook wouldn’t be the only one who was rich.”

Laurie turned at the sound of footsteps and saw her father and Alex Buckley walking into the kitchen.

“What’s all this?” Leo boomed.

“Jerry got us breakfast!” Timmy exclaimed.

“Even better,” Jerry said. “Jerry hired someone to get us breakfast.”

Alex gave her a quick good-morning peck on the cheek and headed straight for the coffee. He had an iPad in hand, which she knew he would use to peruse the New York Times. He had arrived so late the previous evening that they’d barely had a chance to say hello to each other.

She watched as Timmy leapt out of his seat to give Alex and his grandfather an overview of the buffet. Looking at the three of them, she realized she was smiling and still felt the warmth of Alex’s kiss on her cheek.

She deliberately glanced away at the empty place setting at the table. “So we’re all here except for Grace,” she said. “She’s probably still working on her hair and makeup.”

“Actually,” Jerry said, “I told her she could sleep in.”

“We’re supposed to see Keith Ratner today.” She looked at her watch. They should be leaving before too long. “We can review strategy on the ride there. Rosemary has always been convinced Keith was involved.”

“I know, the boyfriend’s important. But he’s almost as celebrity-conscious as Madison Meyer. That’s why I thought you should bring Alex instead of me and Grace. Assuming, of course, that’s okay with you, Alex.”

Alex looked up from his coffee. “I wouldn’t say I’m a celebrity, but I’m happy to do whatever Laurie would like.”

Another point for Jerry. He was right. Alex would likely snow Keith Ratner-she might as well take advantage of his expertise. “Alex, if Keith has been holding on to information about Susan’s murder all these years, I can’t imagine anyone who might have a better chance of getting him to talk.”

“I don’t know, Jerry,” Leo said cheerfully. “It sounds to me like you’re playing Alex and Laurie to get yourself a day off.”

“Absolutely not, Mr. Farley,” he said, waving his punch list. “Grace and I have a long to-do list ahead of the summit session next week.”

Laurie smiled. “Dad, I can assure you that Jerry is always working. Speaking of work, Alex, you and I should be heading out. And, Jerry, you can scratch one phone call off your list. We’ll make sure Keith knows where to come next week for the big shoot.”

39

Three hundred sixty miles north, Dwight Cook was just waking up in his Palo Alto mansion. Though the home had more than nine thousand square feet, he spent most of his time in this enormous master suite with sweeping views of the foothills. But this morning, he was more interested in another one of his real estate holdings. He immediately reached for the laptop on his nightstand and opened the viewer for the surveillance cameras in the Bel Air house.

The first camera to appear overlooked the entryway. Laurie Moran was walking toward the front door. He recognized the man behind her as Alex Buckley, the show’s host.

Dwight used the right-arrow key to flip through the cameras situated around the house.

The assistant, Grace, was coming out of one of the bedrooms on the second floor, singing an old disco song. The others were all finishing breakfast in the kitchen, the child asking whether they’d have time for a trip to Disneyland. The surveillance equipment-built into the walls, completely undetectable-was working flawlessly. Dwight had had the system installed in all his properties for extra security, but now it would be serving another role.