Free Hell by Hilary Norman Page B

trunk. ‘No hand needed, thanks. How’re you coping with all this?’
    â€˜It’s great to have you here,’ Mike said. ‘Everyone’s out back. Dad’s barbecuing.’ He led the way inside, and the door closed with a soft whoosh and click behind them. ‘Mom said I should ask if you want to freshen up or come right on through and have a beer?’
    â€˜Beer, no contest,’ Sam said.
    He was off-duty till morning, with Cutter and Sheldon taking the late shift to start calling in at some of the South Beach nightclubs that a guy like Andrew Victor – a ‘risk-taker’, according to Gail Tewkesbury – might have visited on the evening of Saturday, April 9, on what might have been the last night of his life.
    Sam dumped his bag along with those thoughts and followed Mike across the vast open-plan living space that formed much of the first floor of their home, through to the illuminated rear of the house, with its expanse of terrace, deck, pool and barbecue area – where Daniel and his younger son, Robbie – fifteen years old, living mostly for food and his electronic gizmos – were hard at work, wearing ‘Danger, Men Cooking’ aprons.
    â€˜Hi, guys,’ Sam said, and Woody came trotting over with Ludo, the three-legged spaniel rescued by the family last year in Seattle.
    â€˜You made it.’ Grace, looking relaxed in jeans, got up off her lounger and came to kiss him. ‘Joshua’s asleep upstairs, tired out from being spoiled the instant we got here.’
    â€˜Hey, bro,’ Saul said from another lounger.
    Mike brought him over his beer, and Sam thanked him and made his way across to their host, gave him and Robbie a hug.
    â€˜Thanks don’t seem enough for this, Dan,’ he said.
    â€˜More than enough,’ Daniel told him.
    Sam looked at the tall, angular, green-eyed, bespectacled man, a little stooped from decades of leaning over drawing boards, but still driven and vital and fundamentally kind, and thought again how glad he and Grace were that he and Claudia had gotten over their bad patch a couple of years ago.
    â€˜If you’re wondering where your daughter is,’ Daniel said, ‘she’s helping Claudia in the kitchen and looking lovelier than ever.’
    â€˜She’s very happy at JWU, thank God,’ Sam said.
    â€˜She deserves all the happiness she can get,’ Daniel said.
    Grace came with him upstairs – up a steel and glass staircase softly lit from within – to show Sam the guest suite, which was more comfortable than any hotel they’d ever stayed in.
    â€˜Cathy’s going to be downstairs in another guest room with en-suite shower,’ Grace said. ‘Saul’s sharing with Mike, and Joshua’s in with Robbie.’
    Sam checked out the room, put away his gun and holster in a bedside drawer. ‘I thought he’d be with us.’
    â€˜Robbie really wants to have him,’ Grace said, ‘though we can always turn things around if anyone’s unhappy.’
    She came into the bathroom while he showered.
    â€˜We need to talk about my patients,’ she said.
    â€˜I thought you’d have them come here,’ Sam said, reaching for a towel.
    â€˜I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘It’s too far, and there’d be confidentiality issues with so many people coming and going – not to mention the inconvenience for Claudia and Dan.’
    Sam went back into the bedroom and rummaged in his bag for shorts and a T-shirt. ‘So what’s your plan?’
    â€˜House calls?’
    â€˜Not safe enough.’ He sat on the bed, pulled on sneakers. ‘Any chance Magda would let you share her setup for a little while?’
    Magda Shrike – Grace’s mentor, friend and occasional psychologist – had recently relocated both home and office into a prime building in Bal Harbour.
    â€˜Twenty-four hour doorman,’ he