I got up off the bed and went into the bathroom for a shampoo and shower. Despite the fact that Barry Morton wanted me to see this Ninos del Mundo place, whatever it was, I didn't want to show up looking and smelling like some bedraggled tourist. I'd wear my tailored blue suit, which, along with the dark blue heels, ought to make me look ade­quately businesslike.

The shower was wonderful, purging away the soot of the park, and I was wrapping my hair in a large beige towel when the phone jangled again. I tucked in the edge to secure it and walked over. Maybe it was Lou ringing back.

No such luck. The caller was none other than my brand-new partner Alan Dupre. I was not thrilled to hear his voice. Was he about to get cold feet and back out?

"Morgan, listen," he said, not wasting time on niceties, "there's been a small change of plans. I've—"

"Alan, don't do this to me." You shit. "You agreed— "

"No, why I'm calling is, we've got to go ahead and go up today, storm or no, God help us. You happy now?"

What? After that neurotic song-and-dance he'd just given me in the park? I should have been overjoyed, but something about the whole thing immediately felt synthetic. I paused a long moment, trying to think the situation through. What was going on?

The answer to that was clear as day. I was being set up. Somebody wanted me out of town, and they'd just found a way.

Or was I being paranoid again? Had the weather cleared? I reached over and pushed aside a curtain. Nope, it looked as threatening as ever.

No question. This was definitely a setup.