HOLLYWOOD
SEPTEMBER 14
1:50 P.M.

Score had barely ushered a rich new client out of his office before Amy strode in, all but slamming the door behind her. The green tips of her hair quivered with anger.

“The next time you tell me ASAP,” she said, “take my calls.”

He grabbed his temper before he decked her. He needed Amy’s head right where it was, on her shoulders. He’d always had a temper, but lately it was on a hair trigger.

’Roids.

No. I do steroids, they don’t do me. It’s this damn Breck case that’s jerking me off.

“The bug on subject Breck has moved about three miles northeast from its initial site,” she said.

“What’s three miles away?”

“According to the map you gave me, a lot of nothing. It’s Nowhere, Arizona.”

Modesty’s taunting words came back to Score.

This house was built by pioneers, people who lived alone and protected themselves. They built hidey-holes that even the Paiutes couldn’t find.

“Anything on the phone bug?” he asked.

“No more than I already gave you. The subject must be away from her sat phone.”

Score looked at his schedule, swore under his breath, and wished he knew what the Breck girl was up to.

He didn’t want to leave Hollywood right now.

And he couldn’t afford to boot the Breck case. That particular client was too important.

“Tell me if you get anything on the phone bug,” Score said, “or if it leaves the ranch boundaries. And there’s a bonus if you get anything solid out of the phone.”

“Define solid.”

“I’ll know when you tell me.”