by Robert Crais
BOARD OF REVIEW
Inquiry into shooting death of Officer Abel Wozniak Timeline of events (from the findings):
0925 hrs: Ramona Ann Escobar (5 yr, female) abducted fm Echo Park Lake 0952 hrs: APB Escobar; suspct L. DeVille, knwn pedophile, in area 1140 hrs: Ofcs Wozniak & Pike learn loc. of DeVille, seen by wit w/ minor female child 1148 hrs: Ofcs Wozniak & Pike arrv Islander Palms Motel 1152 hrs: Ofcs Wozniak & Pike enter DeVille rm; question DeVille; find photographic evidence of Escobar, but child is not present (note for record: evidence inclds photos of minor female Escobar sexually abused by DeVille) 1155 hrs: Ofc Wozniak threatens to kill DeVille unless DeVille produces girl; Ofc Wozniak strikes DeVille with service pistol (note for record: examining ER physician confirms DeVille injuries consistent)
1156 hrs: Ofc Pike attempts to calm Wozniak with no success; Ofc Wozniak aims weapon at DeVille; Ofc Pike intervenes 1157 hrs: Ofcs Wozniak & Pike struggle; weapon discharges; Ofc Wozniak DOA at scene (note for record: SID, CI & ME exam results consistent) (note for record: Ofc Woz prior hist. w/ suspect DeVille; two arrests)
Finding: Accidental Discharge. No charges brought in above matter.
By seven-thirty that morning, the Shortstop was filled with night-watch officers anxious to burn off the street before heading home. Pike ignored the way they looked at him, the cop who had caused his partner's death protecting a pedophile.
Bud had the grim look of a gunfighter when he entered the bar, thumbs hooked in his belt. He was one of the few officers present who still wore his uniform; everyone else had showered and changed at the station. His jaw was tight, and his mouth was a hard, lipless crevice. Bud squinted around the room, searching the crowd until Pike raised a hand. They hadn't seen each other in weeks. Since before it happened.
When they made eye contact, Pike nodded.
Bud stared across the room, still with his thumbs in his belt, then spoke so loud every cop in the place turned to look.
He said, There's the best damned man I ever trained, Officer Joe Pike.
An anonymous voice in the background spoke just as loud.
Fuck him, and fuck you, too.
A few of them laughed.
Bud walked directly to Pike's table and mounted a stool. If Bud heard the comments, he did not react. Neither did Pike. It was like facing down a crowd in a riot situation.
Pike said, Thanks for coming.
Take off those goddamned sunglasses. They look silly in here.
Just like Pike was still a boot and Bud was still his T. O. Pike didn't take them off.
He said, I'm leaving the job. I didn't want you to hear it from someone else.
Bud stared at him like Pike owed him money, then scowled at the men lining the bar. A division robbery detective was watching them and met Bud's eye.
Bud, maintaining the contact, said, What?
The detective returned to his drink, and Bud turned back to Pike.
Assholes.
Forget it.
Don't let these bastards beat you. Just ride it out.
Pike spread his hands, taking in the bar and everyone in it.
We're at the Shortstop, Bud. Somebody has something to say, they can say it to my face.
Bud made a ragged smile then, but it was pained.
Yeah. I guess that's you. Asking me here instead of someplace else.
I'm turning in the papers today. I wanted to tell you, manto-man.
Bud took a breath, then laced his fingers. Pike thought Bud Flynn looked disappointed, and was sorry for that.
Bud said, Listen. Don't do this. Put in for Metro. That Metro is an elite unit, the best of the best. After Metro, you could do whatever you want in this job. If you don't want to be a detective, you could put in for SWAT. Whatever you want.
It's done, Bud. I'm out.
Goddamn it, you're too good to be out. You're a police officer.
Pike tried to think of something to say, but couldn't. Not what he really wanted to say. Even with three years on the job, Pike still thought of himself as Bud's boot and wanted his approval, though he did not expect it now.
Bud suddenly leaned toward him again and lowered his voice.
What happened in there?
The Islander Palms Motel.
Pike leaned back and immediately cursed himself for it. Bud would read his move as being evasive. All through Pike's boot year, Bud had taught him to read people-the nuance of body language, expression, and action could save a cop's life.
Pike tried to cover himself by leaning forward again, but he already sensed it was too little, too late. Bud was good. Bud was a wizard.
Pike said, You know what happened. Everyone knows. I told the review board.
Bullshit. Struggle for the gun, my ass. I knew Woz, and I sure as hell know you. If you wanted that gun he would've been on his ass before he could fart.
Pike simply shook his head, trying to pull it in deep, trying to be empty.
That's what happened.
Bud studied him, then lowered his voice still more.
I heard he was into something. Was Woz being investigated?
Pike could see Bud working on the read and knew any movement or expression would be a tell, so he cleared himself and answered with the fewest words.
I don't know.
Bud placed his hand on Pike's arm. Digging deeper.
I heard the M. E. had questions. Said the angle of entry was consistent with a self-inflicted wound.
Never looking away, Pike repeated what he told the review board.
Wozniak pointed his weapon at DeVille. I grabbed it and we struggled. Instead of turning the weapon away from Wozniak, I turned it toward him. Maybe I could have done something else, but that's what I did. The gun discharged during the struggle.
Bud spoke slowly.
You guys wrestling with the gun, I could maybe see it going off in his stomach or maybe his chest, but up at his temple?
Let it go, Bud. That's what happened.
Bud stared at him so hard it felt as if he were seeing inside Pike's head.
So what happened in there, it has nothing to do with Wozniak's family.
Like Bud knew. Like he could read Pike's mind that Wozniak was being investigated for theft and criminal conspiracy, that Pike had been trying to make him resign for the sake of his family.
No.
It has nothing to do with his death benefits. That if he committed suicide, they would get nothing, but if he died fighting with you, they still get the checks.
Like everything Pike ever thought or felt was written on his face.
Let it go, Bud. That's what happened.
Bud finally settled back, and Pike loved and respected him all the more. Bud seemed satisfied with what he had seen.
Bud said, Tell you what. I know the sheriff out in San Bernardino. You could get on out there. Hell, I know some pretty good guys up in Ventura County. You could get on up there, too.
I've already got another job lined up.
What are you going to do?
Africa.
Bud frowned deeper, like why would any sane man give up being a cop to go over there?
What's over there, the Peace Corps?
Pike hadn't wanted to get into all this, but now he didn't know how to avoid it.
It's contract work. Military stuff. They have work over there.
Bud stiffened, clearly upset.
What's that mean, contract work?
They need people with combat experience. Like when I was a Marine.
You mean a fucking mercenary?
Pike didn't answer. He was already sorry he told Bud his plans.
Jesus Christ. If you want to play soldier, re-up in the goddamn Marines. That's a stupid idea. Why in hell do you want to go get yourself killed in a shithole like Africa?
Pike had taken a contract job with a licensed professional military corporation in London. It was work he understood and at which he excelled, with the clarity of a clearly defined objective. And r
ight now Pike wanted clarity. He would be away from Wozniak's ghost. And far away from Wozniak's wife.
Pike said, I've got to get going. I wanted to tell you I'm glad you were my T. O. I wanted to thank you.
Pike put out his hand, but Bud did not take it.
Don't do this.
It's done.
Pike left out his hand, but Bud still did not take it. Bud slid off the stool, then hooked his thumbs in his belt.
Bud said, Day we met, you wanted to protect and to serve. You quoted the motto. I guess that's over.
Pike finally lowered his hand.
I'm disappointed, son. I thought you were better than this.
Son.
Bud Flynn walked out of the Shortstop, and they would not speak again until they met in the high desert.
Pike sat alone at the small table, feeling empty and numb.
I'm disappointed, son.
He listened to the men and women around him. They were like any other group of people with whom he had served-talking, complaining, laughing, lying; some he respected, others not; some he liked, others not; as different from each other as pebbles on the beach, but different from most other people in a way Pike admired-they were people who ran toward danger to protect and to serve. Pike loved being a cop. He couldn't think of anything he would rather be, but you played the cards you were dealt, and now this life was gone.
Pike left the Shortstop. He went to his truck, thinking about his first night with Bud Flynn, the night they answered the domestic call. Pike hardly thought about that night, just as he rarely thought about his combat missions or the beatings his old man used to give him. Pike flashed on scrapbook photos of Kurt Fabrocini stabbing Bud in the chest. He saw the Beretta's sights aligned at the top of Fabrocini's ear at the instant he squeezed the trigger; he saw the red mist. Then, after, Bud still shaking, saying, Our job isn't to kill people-it's to keep people alive. Saying that about a man who had been stabbing him in the chest. What a man, Bud Flynn. What a police officer.
Pike said, I'm going to miss you.
The father he never had.
Pike started his truck. He drove away. He played the cards he was dealt even when they were bad cards, and he lived with the result.
But sometimes he wished for more.
THE STREET grumbled with outbound trucks moving cargo up along the river toward the freeway. The same roach coach sat at the mouth of the alley, only today, this time of morning, the thinning crowd of sweatshop workers lingered on the sidewalk with breakfast burritos and plastic containers of orange juice. Pike smelled the chorizo and chili as they pulled to the curb behind Cole. Pike studied the warehouse until he found the address, faded and peeling but still readable, like a shadow on the pale wall. 18185. Cole was good.
Pike glanced at Larkin.
You sure you're okay with this?
I want to be here. I'm okay.
She started to open the door, but Pike stopped her.
Wait for Elvis.
Cole got out of his car first. He scanned the surrounding roofs and windows like a Secret Service agent clearing the way for the president, then meandered around his car to the passenger side. He hefted a long green duffel from behind the seat and slung it over his shoulder. Pike saw him wince. From the way the bag pulled, you could see it was heavy.
Cole came back to the girl's side of the car.
There's a little parking lot at the far end of the alley should work for us. Padlocked gate and a couple of doors. Let's go see what we see.
Larkin said, Are we going to break in?
Cole laughed.
It's been known to happen.
They walked past the rear of the catering truck, then down the alley with the abandoned warehouse on their right and the sweatshop on their left, first Cole, then the girl, then Pike. The huge loading doors were still chained, but Cole continued past them and along the alley to the next street. At the corner, a small parking lot with another loading dock was cut into the building. The parking lot was littered with yellowed newspapers and trash, and brown explosions erupted from cracks in the tarmac where weeds had sprouted, flourished, and died. A loading dock lipped from one wall as high as Pike's chest, and a metal, human-size door was set at ground level on the adjoining wall. A realty sign covered with graffiti was wired to the gate, advertising the building for sale or lease.
Pike turned to watch the catering van as Cole peered through the fence, but Cole spoke almost at once.
Yep. They were here.
When Pike turned back, Cole pointed at the corner of the roof. A pale blue alarm panel was mounted near the end of the building, but the cover was missing. Old wires had been cut, and new wires had been clipped to bypass the old. Whoever jumped the alarms hadn't bothered to replace the cover, as if they didn't care whether or not their work was discovered.
Pike glanced back at Cole.
You still game?
Sure. Insurance companies make the owners carry security even when the buildings aren't used. Now we don't have to worry about the rent-a-cops. Makes it easier.
Cole pulled a three-foot bolt cutter from the duffel, snapped the padlock, and Pike pushed open the gate. Cole went directly to the door, and Pike followed with the girl, lagging behind to cover their rear.
The employee door was faced with metal and secured by three industrial-strength dead-bolt locks. Cole didn't waste time trying to pick the locks. He hammered them out of the door with a steel chisel and a ten-pound maul. Pike was proud of the girl. She didn't ask questions or run her mouth. She stood to the side with her arms crossed and watched Cole work.
When the door swung open, Cole returned his tools to the duffel, then passed a flashlight to Pike and kept one for himself. He also gave them disposable latex gloves.
Pike went in first, stepping into a gloomy office suite that had long since been stripped of furniture, equipment, and everything else of value. A heavy layer of dust and rat droppings covered the floor, and the air was sharp with the smell of urine. Pike snapped on his flashlight and saw a confusion of fresh footprints pressed into the dust.
Pike moved deeper into the room so Elvis and Larkin could follow, then squatted to examine the footprints.
Larkin said, Ugh. It stinks in here.
Cole snapped on his light and walked it over the prints.
What do you think?
Pike stood.
Three people. A week or so ago. Maybe ten days.
Pike traced his light along a trail of footprints to the corner of the room where a large stain mottled the floor.
Larkin said, What's that?
One of our friends took a leak.
Oh, that is so gross.
The footprints came from a second room beyond the first.
Pike said, Back here.
Like the first room, this second room was empty, but a door and a window were set into the wall so the manager could keep an eye on things in the warehouse. An enormous empty space lay beyond the glass, murky with a dim glow from skylights cut into the roof. Pike shined his flashlight through the glass, but the empty darkness swallowed the beam. His view of the room was limited, but he saw more footprints beyond the glass.
Cole and the girl came up on either side of him.
Pike said, They came here the one time. They looked around and haven't been back.
The girl cupped her eyes to the glass.
What were they looking for? Why would this place have anything to do with me?
Cole went to the door.
That's what we want to find out. Tell me if you find a clue, okay?
When Cole opened the door, a fresh spike of ammonia burned at Pike's nose, but a stronger smell was behind it; something earthy and organic.
Larkin covered her mouth.
Ugh.
Pike followed Cole into the warehouse, with the girl coming out behind him. Their footsteps echoed loudly, and their lights swung through the murk like sabers.
The girl saw it first.
&
nbsp; She said, Ohmigod! That's the car!
Pike and Cole saw it together after that. A silver Mercedes sedan was parked near the loading dock off the little parking lot, alone and obvious in the empty warehouse. The fender behind the left rear wheel was crumpled and bent.
Larkin said, This is the car I hit. This is the Mercedes.
The girl walked over as if none of this were strange or frightening or not a part of her everyday life.
Pike said, Larkin.
This is the car!
She walked directly to the car, looked inside, then clutched her belly and heaved.
Cole caught up to her and turned her away as Pike shined his light through the glass. A dead man in the front passenger seat was slumped across the center console. A dead woman was curled on her side in the backseat. Both were naked, with their ankles and knees and wrists bound by cord. Their bodies were discolored and swollen so badly their bindings had split the flesh. Each had been shot in the back of the head. Pike figured they were the Kings, but he had never seen the Kings. He turned back to the girl.
Pike said, I think it's the Kings, but I don't know. Can you see?
Larkin was breathing through her mouth. Her face had gone grey, but she came closer.
It just surprised me, that's all.
Pike stood between her and the car.
Don't look in the back. Just look at the man in the front seat.
Pike shined his light. The girl leaned past him enough to peer into the car, then turned away.
That's him. That's George King. Ohmigod.
Pike glanced at Cole, and Cole nodded.
Pike said, Go with Elvis. I'll only be a few minutes.
No. I can stay.
You don't have to stay.
Her face hardened, and Pike liked how she was pulling herself together.
I can stay. I'm all right.
Pike turned back to the Mercedes and shined the light in again. The keys were still in the ignition, which meant the car wouldn't be locked. Pike looked back at the girl.
Cover your mouth and nose. With a handkerchief. If you don't have a handkerchief, use your shirt.
She looked confused.
