Blood Relations
Page 32
“Our mutual friend.”
“Olivia?”
“Jim,” she said. “He sends his regards.”
“What’s this about?”
“First, to say thanks. You saved me ten million dollars. And possibly my soul.”
“You talked to Olivia, then.”
“I did,” she said. “Forget the bar. We can go upstairs.”
She took my arm, the way she had when she’d caught me trespassing on her porch. This time, she led me across the lobby. She pushed the elevator button, and when the car came, we got in. She had a suite on the fifth floor, maybe the best room in La Paz, but compared to her perch above L.A., everything here looked like it had been plucked from a roadside fire sale.
She pointed me to a rattan chair on the balcony, took two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, and handed them both to me. They were warm, but cooler than I was.
“You didn’t come all the way to La Paz to say thanks.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “I came to hire you—I told Jim I needed the best. He said that would be you. If you’re taking cases.”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Does it have anything to do with Stefan Larsen?”
“Not at all.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I can sometimes figure things out.”
“And it’s delicate. It might not be exactly legal.”
“Then I guess I’m your man,” I said.
“I guess you are.”
I pried open the beers with my thumb and handed her one of the bottles. We touched their necks together, then looked out over the rail. The sea was turquoise near the shore, and a deep blue farther off, where the depths stole all the sunlight. It was nothing like San Francisco, and I liked that just fine. But I supposed I’d go wherever my client needed me. That was okay with me, which was a new feeling. I’d known who I was for a long time, but I’d only just learned to live with it.
Acknowledgments
Taking a trip through Lee Crowe’s world was fun, and I’d love to go back there someday. Especially if I could do it with all the people who helped me write this first book. My wife, Maria Wang, has supported my writing from the very beginning and has helped me in more ways than I could ever enumerate. My children, Bruce and Sally, inspire me. I work a little harder every day because they’re here. Nathaniel Boyer, M.D., is still my go-to guy for crazy medical questions. He’s better than Google, because the NSA can’t keep a file on all the things I’ve asked him over the years. My editor Naomi Gibbs helped me fine tune this manuscript. She was ideally matched for the project and came into it knowing more about genetic engineering than I did. The people at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt—including, but by no means limited to Laura Brady, Michelle Triant, and Alison Kerr Miller—have been beyond amazing, are wonderful to work with, and have never lost faith. And finally there’s Alice Martell, my agent. She’s the agent every writer deserves and few get; if you could have one person in your corner in the publishing world, you’d want Alice.
Visit hmhbooks.com to find more books by Jonathan Moore.
About the Author
JONATHAN MOORE is the author of six books, including The Poison Artist, The Dark Room, and The Night Market. He lives in Honolulu.
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