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seemed more like a CEO at an emergency board meeting than a mother whose daughter’s life was unraveling. Some people hid a tumult of emotions beneath a serene façade. But Lydia had the sense that Eleanor’s chill went straight to the bone.
    Eleanor looked at her watch suddenly and rose.
    “I have to collect my lawyer and see Detective McKirdy to give my statement,” she said, turning to Jeffrey. “I’m sure you’ll recap our conversation for Ms. Strong and contact me to let me know if you’ll accept this case. You realize, of course, that money is not an issue.”
    “We’ll contact you by the end of the day today,” answered Jeffrey.
    Lydia stood and shook Eleanor’s hand again, saying nothing. The older woman’s hand was as cold and hard as a corpse. She turned toward the door with a sweep of her coat.
    Jeffrey escorted Eleanor to the elevators and Lydia watched as they exchanged a few more words while they waited in the lobby.She could hear the cadence of Jeffrey’s deep voice even though she couldn’t understand his words. The elevator doors slid open and Jeffrey held them as Eleanor stepped on. Lydia always admired the way Jeffrey treated people, with a kind of courteous distance. He wasn’t cold, but he wasn’t falsely intimate. There was a quality about his manner and his voice that communicated authority. There was something about the gaze of his hazel eyes faceted with gold and green that could be in turn withering or understanding, loving or just plain dangerous.
    When Eleanor disappeared behind the stainless steel, Jeffrey turned to face Lydia, raising his eyebrows and giving her a small smile. She knew he couldn’t see her, but that he was aware of her watching, observing them. The thought made her smile.
    In the cab on the way up, Lydia had checked the news headlines on her cellular phone. Remembering Jeffrey mentioning the Julian Ross case of ten years ago to her more than once, she had deduced immediately what was up. Though she certainly hadn’t expected Eleanor Ross would be sitting in his office when she arrived.
    She hadn’t been blowing smoke up Eleanor’s ass, not that she was above it. She truly had been a fan of Julian Ross’s work for quite some time. It was grim and violent, alive with a raw passion that moved Lydia. She’d thought more than once of buying an original piece but could never quite bring herself to part with the small fortune it would cost. Besides, there was enough violence and passion to be found on the landscape of her own inner life to keep her occupied.
    Eleanor Ross made quite an impression herself. Lydia could tell that she was a formidable woman, strong and domineering, intelligent, and not to be fucked with. But she could also see Eleanor was hiding something, something that frightened her very much. Lydia could sense that by the way the older woman’s hands were ice-cold and shook almost imperceptibly, by the way she shifted her eyes quickly between Lydia and Jeffrey, by the way she slipped behinda queenly façade when Lydia mentioned the first murder case. The buzz was so loud it sounded like blood rushing in her ears.
    Jeffrey returned to the office and shut the door behind him. He wore a thin black Armani sweater with three bold horizontal gray stripes across his broad chest, over charcoal wool flat front pants. A pair of black leather boots was the perfect finish. His sandy brown hair was cut short with a stylish bit of length on top. He was the only straight man she knew who loved designer clothes and good hair as much as she did.
    “What did you think of her?” he asked, knowing by the look on her face that she’d already formed an opinion.
    “Freaky,” she said with a smile. Lydia stood and Jeffrey pulled her in to him. She took in the scent of his cologne, feeling his warm hard body against hers and the stubble on his chin against the soft smooth skin of her face. She wrapped her arms around his waist.
    “How’s everybody?” he asked,