suckling her breast. He wondered if she'd chosen this moment to feed her baby just to unnerve him. If so, it was working. His father, however, appeared completely at ease.
"Because you told us." Mark said amiably. "Well, you told me, actually. I was sent a box of files and this letter."
Mark passed a copy of Stryker's note across the desk to her. She leaned forward to take it, revealing even more of her bosom to Steve, who looked away quickly.
She read it carefully and set it aside, taking a deep breath before speaking again.
"I've been on maternity leave for the past two weeks," she said. "I didn't know about this."
"Then how did it get sent?" Steve asked.
"It was all prearranged, part of a simple system we worked out. It's been going on for so long that I forgot all about it," she said. "I delegated it to my assistant years ago."
"How does the arrangement work?" Mark said.
"Nick calls on the seventh of every month and leaves a message on our voice mail. Nothing special, just a simple hello is all," she said. "If he doesn't call, we're supposed to immediately send out all the files in his safe-deposit box according to whatever instructions we find there."
"That's it?" Steve said incredulously. "You weren't supposed to even try to call him to double-check? Maybe stop by his house to see if he was okay?"
"He's always called," she said.
"Why didn't you notify the police?" Mark said.
"That wasn't part of his instructions," she said.
"You could have done it out of concern for your client," Steve said.
"I show my concern by respecting my client's wishes, which, in this case, are in writing."
"But if he didn't call, you knew it had to mean he was in danger," Mark said. "Or worse."
"I didn't know anything. I wasn't here. This is the first I've heard about it," Swann gently lifted her baby away from her breast, adjusted her blouse, and draped a towel over her shoulder. "Now maybe you can answer a question for me. Where did you find Nick's body?"
"We haven't, Steve said.
"So he could still be alive." Swann held her baby to her shoulder and gently patted her back.
"Someone set fire to his office and he didn't make his call," Mark said. "It doesn't look too good."
"He could be in hiding," Swann said.
"Those files were his meal ticket. Stryker would have found a way to call you from whatever rock he was under," Steve said. "He's dead."
Swann started rocking gently in her seat. Steve wasn't sure if it was to comfort herself or the baby.
"Do you know what case he was working on?" Mark asked her.
She shook her head. "I haven't talked to him in months. But he sent a box of chocolates to me last week in the maternity ward."
"Did you know what was in Stryker's files?" Steve said.
Swann offered him a tight smile. "Do you really expect me to answer that?
Steve shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."
CHAPTER SIX
There was a list of things District Attorney Neil Burnside was determined to avoid in the few short months before the people of Los Angeles went to the polls and, he hoped, elected him mayor in a landslide over his opponents—the current chief of police, a city councilwoman, and the incumbent mayor.
Most of the things on his list he could control. He wouldn't drive drunk, he wouldn't cheat on his wife, he wouldn't take any bribes, and he wouldn't murder anybody.
But there were a few items that were a question of fate. He didn't want a scandal within his office. He didn't want any celebrities to murder anyone. And he didn't want anything to do with Dr. Mark Sloan.
Publicly, Burnside was on record many times declaring his respect for Dr. Sloan and his appreciation of the man's invaluable contributions to law enforcement. His true opinion of the doctor, however, was far different
He conceded that Dr. Sloan was a brilliant detective who had been responsible for the apprehension and conviction of many killers over the years. But every one of the doctor's successes was nonetheless an