Perfect killer

CHAPTER 30

Jasmine left me with my thoughts as I collected her from the sitting room. Flowers said he would e-mail me the files of Camilla's EEGs so I might have a look at the odd patterns.

I thought little of Jasmine or Flowers as we retraced our path south along Pacific Coast Highway and I let the weight of sadness fill me. Experience had taught me that surrender to the pain reminded me of the futility of human ambition. When measured against eternity, wealth, power, fame, status, all passed away in a blink amounting to nothing. The pain always scrubbed away ambition, then faded, leaving me to wonder what enduring thing I should dedicate my life to.

These moments brought images of God, souls, the human spirit, love, the endurance of consciousness beyond the death of the human body-the evanescent territory beyond science and proof, provinces of faith beyond human certainty. I never reached a bankable conclusion, but yielding to the process eventually left me with a peaceful sense of well-being.

Calm had finally begun to sift into my heart when, right past the big slide area south of Malibu, pulled over to let two CHP motorcycle officers and a sheriff's car pass with their sirens and lights at full attack. I drove on and made the left-hand turnoff to Topanga Canyon, where Chris Nellis lived. "I have a bad feeling."

Jasmine sat silent as I continued northeast. We crested a gentle rise. In the distance, police vehicles and an ambulance crowded in front of a small A-frame house. Closer, CHP worked traffic control.

"Oh, hell."

"What?" Jasmine asked.

I accelerated slowly down the hill toward the CHiPs.

"That's Chris Nellis's house."

At the traffic control point, I showed my sheriff's reserve ID to the CHP officers and they informed me then that Chris Nellis had been killed, shot multiple times, apparently by a sniper. They waved me on through, but I turned around instead. "You have got to get out of here," I told Jasmine as we drove back to PCH.

"Take me back to the hotel. I'll pack and get the next flight to Jackson."

I thought about this as I made the left at the beach, suddenly convinced someone was watching us, certain now my phone call to Chris was what had killed him.

Suddenly I realized there could be a tail among any number of vehicles in the surrounding traffic, that my truck might even have a tracker. I shook my head at Jasmine and put my index finger over my lips. "Good idea." I shook my head.

We drove in silence for another minute. I turned into a beachside parking lot, watching for a tail.

"But before you go, you need to experience the beach at least once."

Jasmine gave me a questioning look, but followed me out of the truck.

At the water's edge we walked the firm, moist sand, and I told her my suspicions.

"No time for you to go back to the hotel. They'll be expecting you to do that. I'm taking you straight to the airport."

"But my clothes, my-"

"Give me your key. I'll take care of it, pay the bill. Ship your stuff back"

"Are you sure…"

"You may be in as much danger as your mother. Get on the first plane out of terminal one. It doesn't matter where… Phoenix, Sacramento-wherever. Just so you're gone faster than they can track you. Work your way home on whatever flights you can get."

We walked through the sand toward a concrete bench beneath twin palm trees, then made a U-turn back to my truck.

"I'll get there myself by tomorrow," I promised.

"But your practice, your work."

"Unless you and I can get to the bottom of this, those won't be worth a damn… not to mention your life and mine."