Jackie, who’d grown up on the quiet, tree-lined streets of Torrance, could never get used to this haphazard clump of dingy, tan, threatening buildings. The two shootings and numerous hold-ups that had scared the residents lately had all occurred within the Estates, not outside of them, so she didn’t see why the guards were so concerned with visitors.
She stared out the window at the snow-capped peaks and waited for the security guard to write her a guest pass, wondering, as always, why she had to complete this particular formality. It was a beautiful day, she noticed, but Los Angeles always looked best in winter-free of smog, crisp and green, cradled by the mountains. And since her aunt Lois was, hands down, her favorite person in the family, she’d decided that the library could wait.
Normally at this time she’d be studying already-she was in her third year of law school at UCLA-but Lois had called the night before, voice rough with cigarettes and tears, and asked her to come over this morning. Ten days after her grandfather died, Jackie Ishida pulled into the entrance of the Tara Estates, the apartment complex where he’d lived with her aunt and uncle.
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