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Parker?” A short muscular
Hispanic man in dark brown slacks and a black t-shirt stood near the elevators
as though unsure where to go from there. He raised a hand in greeting. One
corner of his mouth lifted in a tight smile, stretching a pale scar that ran
from his left cheek to just under his chin.
    Billie hesitated, unsure what the
man wanted. She didn’t recognize him, but he seemed to know her. She was pretty
sure she’d remember him if they met at the winery. He had a sleeve tattoo
covering his left arm from the wrist up, another tattoo on the side of his neck
and the familiar barbed wire tattoo around the bicep of his right arm. This guy
was a walking ink well.
    He reached in his pocket and pulled
out a wallet, flipped it open. “You don’t know me. I work for your husband. I’m
a private investigator,” he said, showing her his business card and photo I.D.
“Better?”
    “What?” she asked, flustered by his
directness.
    “You seemed wary. I want to set
your mind at rest about speaking with me.”
    “I was on my way out. Are you here
to visit Handel?” she glanced back at the nurse’s station. “They’re not
allowing anyone but family in ICU at this time. Sorry.”
    “I didn’t think they would. How is
he doing?”
    “His prognosis hasn’t changed. He’s
still comatose.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. Your
husband is a good man. I’ll light a candle for him Sunday at mass,” he said.
    “Thank you, Mr. Alvarez.” She
wasn’t sure what else to say. If a lit candle meant more prayer for Handel,
then she was all for it. He could use all the prayers and good thoughts
available. She’d done plenty of praying herself this past week, especially in
the middle of the night when sleep wouldn’t come and hopelessness tried to
squirm its way into her heart and soul. “Thank you for stopping by,” she added.
    “Actually,” he said putting a hand
on her arm when she began to turn away, “I wanted to speak with you.”
    “Me? About what?”
    “Handel had me working on something
before his accident. We were looking into a spate of rival gang activity during
the week before Mr. Kawasaki’s wife was murdered. He believed it was somehow
connected.”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t really know
much about the case other than what’s been on the news. Handel was very careful
about client confidentiality. We rarely discussed our work.” She stared at the
flashing floor number above the elevator doors, avoiding his eyes. She had
shied away from discussing Handel’s case for purely selfish reasons. Not
because she was worried about client confidentiality, but because she was
worried Handel would expect her to reciprocate and share her work with him. So
rather than feel guilty, she shut him down time after time. Now when she had
the opportunity to help him… she couldn’t.
    “I understand. But you must have
his notes. The police gave you his briefcase they recovered at the accident,
didn’t they? Maybe there’s a lead in there for me to follow while he’s
incapacitated. That way when he wakes up everything will be ready for him to
jump right back into court without asking for another continuance.”
    Billie pressed her lips together
and tried to clamp down her feelings. Would Handel ever be able to jump right
back into court? Even if he did wake up soon, he had a long way to go to full
recovery. They had no way of knowing how much damage was done until he…
    “Are you all right?”
    She cleared her throat and glanced
back at the room where Margaret and Davy still sat with Handel, their eyes full
of hope. “Honestly, no. Mind if we take a walk outside while we talk?”
    “Not at all.”
    They took the elevator to ground
level and made their way out to the street. The hospital had a quiet park area
nearby and Billie headed that way wanting to avoid as much street noise as
possible. A young man on a bicycle zipped in front of them without glancing
their way and Mr. Alvarez pulled her back just in time to