"If you were putting them back the way you found them," Baker said, "why didn't you put them back in the envelope?"
"And if the items were incriminating," Metz added, "why would you conceal them?"
Cop solidarity wasn't going to work. These two wouldn't play ball.
There was another option. The throwdown gun was snugged behind his jacket.
It would be tricky. He would need to wait for the two men to lower their guard. They were both wearing vests. He would need to snap off two head shots fast enough to drop them before they could return fire. The shots would be heard throughout the neighborhood. He would have to run for it. A lot could go wrong in that scenario. Still, it might be his only chance.
He had to distract them. "I think we're losing sight of the big picture," he said. "I admit I wasn't exercising good judgment. The stuff I found amp; well, it rattled me. I've known Al Brand a long time. I never expected him to be involved in anything like this."
Come on, you bastards. Take the fucking bait.
"What is it you say you found, exactly?" Baker asked.
Finally.
"Look for yourselves," Wolper said. "I've gotta say it doesn't look good."
He stepped away from the tool cabinet, inviting the two Hollywood cops to check it out.
Hesitantly they advanced. The bottom drawer was still open. Baker shone his flashlight inside, lighting up the stacks of cash and the narcotics. "Holy shit, look what we've got here."
Wolper eased his right hand behind his back and grasped the gun. Two shots in quick successionthat was all he would have time for. Kill shots, both of them. Anything less than perfect shooting, and he was dead.
He waited for Metz to glance down at the open drawer amp;
Headlights.
A car pulling into the driveway. Light bar on the roof twinkling. Another patrol unit. Two more uniforms.
He could never outgun four officers. Slowly Wolper let go of the gun, leaving it tucked in his waistband.
Baker and Metz were looking at him. "Your back bothering you, Lieutenant?" Metz asked.
"Muscle spasm. I get it sometimes."
The two guns were trained on him again. "I think we'd better pat you down, sir."
For a crazy moment Wolper thought about running. But there was nowhere to run. The two new arrivals were already getting out of their vehicle.
"I showed you my badge," he said. "I outrank the two of you, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Yes, sir, we're aware of that."
"Then let's not have any more bullshit about patting me down like I'm a goddamned criminal."
He turned, intending to walk out of the carport and get to his car and go. Go where? He had no idea. Just go.
Metz laid a hand on his shoulder. "Against the wall, sir."
Wolper wanted to resist, wanted to brazen it out, but already Baker and Metz were escorting him to the side wall of the carport, where he assumed the position like all of the thousand perps he'd busted. Baker found his off-duty weapon, holstered by his side, and Metz's probing hands discovered the throwdown.
"What's this, sir?"
The other two cops had reached the carport and were watching him without expression.
"Backup gun," Wolper said.
"No serial number," Metz reported. "This firearm is illegal."
"Tell us again why you came here," Baker said.
Wolper turned away from the wall to confront their hard faces. In that moment he felt the collapse of his future and all his hopes.
"I want a lawyer," he said quietly.
Baker nodded. "Yes, sir. I think you do."
Chapter Fifty-seven
"Justin," Robin whispered, "I don't understand."
Gray shook his head with a slow smile. "Then you're a lot dumber than I thought."
"Why would you save me, save both of us, if amp;?"
"If I'm still the baddest of the original badass bad boys? Think about it, Doc. Exercise that college-educated brain."
Her gaze flicked to Meg, huddled by her side on the landing.
Gray nodded. "You win the prize," he said cheerfully. "See, I wanted to find your darling daughter. Couldn't do it alone. But if we worked together, we had a shot. You helped lead me to Brand, and now you've brought me here."
Meg looked up at Robin. "You brought him?"
"I thought amp; he could be trusted," Robin said, her voice hollow.
She had thought so, yes. And she had wanted to think so. Wolper had been right about that. She had wanted to believe.
Meg straightened, defying Gray with her glare. "Why do you want me?"
"Shit, I been wanting you ever since you done sassed me outside your mom's office. I don't like sass in a sweet young thing. I mean to teach you not to disrespect Justin Hanover Gray."
"Go to hell," Meg whispered.
Robin pulled her close. "Quiet, Meg."
"Yeah," Gray said. "Pipe down; mind your mommy. You need to save your voice anyhow. You got a lot of screaming to do."
There had to be a way out of this. A way to escapeor summon help.
She thought of the phone in her purse. Carefully she slipped one hand inside.
"Was it amp; Was this your plan all along?" she asked.
He chuckled. "Fuck, no. I never planned to do no harm to you and yours. Figured I'd be too busy making the great escape. Things just happened, is all. I got set up, and that got me pissed royal, so I went on safari for the guys that done it."
She found the phone, but she couldn't dial it blind. Her fingers fumbled at the keypad until she found the large re-dial button. She pressed it.
"Somewhere along the line," Gray was saying, "it hit me how I could take care of two items of business at once. Teach those scumbag cops a lesson and get reacquainted with your daughter. Wasn't no grand plan. Just kind of came together for me."
She was fairly sure the call would go throughbut who would she reach? She couldn't remember the last number she'd dialed.
"Got something on your mind, Doc?" Gray was staring at her.
"I just want to know what amp; what you intend to do with us."
"Like it's a big mystery? Gonna kill the both of you." He said it with a shrug. "But not till after I have myself some serious fun. A little mommy-daughter action is a whole new wrinkle for me. You know, I never did the nasty with them girls I snatched. Was always too looped to get it up. Ain't looped now."
Maybe hitting redial had been a bad idea. She still couldn't remember the last number she'd dialed. Was it Mrs.
Grandy? Or was it her own number at the condo, when she spoke to the SID technician?
No, that wasn't it. She'd used the phone once morein the arcade. When she called Brand.
Perfect, just perfect. She'd placed a call to a dead man.
She had to try a different number. Hit O for the operator, maybe. She touched the clasp of her purse again.
"What're you reaching for, Doc?"
Gray had seen her this time.
"Nothing," she said.
"Gimme the handbag. Right now." He reached for the purse, and without pausing to think or to calculate the risks, she whipped it by the strap, smacking him hard in the face. He stumbled, and for a moment she was sure he would topple down the cellar stairs, but somehow he kept his footing and tore the purse out of her grasp. He pitched it away into the darkness beyond the flashlight's glow.
He was breathing hard. "Jesus, you're a pain in the ass."
The gun targeted her chest. She knew he was debating whether or not to fire.
"I'm sorry, Justin."
"No, you ain't. You're not sorry for nothing you did to me."
"I was always trying to help you. I wanted to make you better."
His face twisted. "I don't want to be better. When did you ever hear me complain about what I am? I been straight with you, Doc. I told you I like the silence 'n' violence. I like putting this old world into a world of hurt. You hear me? I made myself what I am. My parents didn't make me. Soc
iety didn't make me. I made me. I made Justin Hanover Gray. That's who the fuck I am. You never listened 'cause you didn't want to. You got your own motherfuckin' agenda. Wanna neuter me like a stray puppy? Declaw this cat? Ain't never gonna happen. I am the bad seed, Doc Robin. Deal with it."
"I never understood," she whispered, speaking only to herself.
There was no hope of reaching him. There never had been.
Chapter Fifty-eight
Hammond and Banner were standing near the wreckage of the car when Lewinsky returned from a trip to the D-chief's sedan.
"Okay," Lewinsky said, "it just came over the MDT." The Mobile Data Terminal was installed under the dashboard of every LAPD car. "A Hollywood unit is code six at Brand's house. They found Wolper there, by the way."
"Detective Wolper? In the house?"
"On the property. I don't know what's up with that. But another Hollywood car cruising the area found what could be the stolen Firebird."
"Could be?"
"License plate doesn't match. They ran the plate to a residence in Inglewood. Inglewood PD is on their way to talk to the owner."
Someone's cell phone started to ring. They ignored it.
"Gray could've switched plates," Banner said.
"I know that, Phil," Hammond snapped. "We all know it."
Banner was undeterred. "Gray could've ambushed Brand and driven off with him. Maybe he followed him from the video place in Hollywood."
"You think?" Hammond asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
"I'm just pointing out"
"The fucking obvious. Good work, Columbo. What would we do without you?"
"Maybe I should stick to media relations."
"Maybe you should."
"You want me to get Susy Chen on the phone to cover this?"
"Shut up."
"It's a terrific story, Chief. Not only does the LAPD fail to find Gray, they actually let him kidnap and kill one of their own. I'll bet the public is feeling real safe now."
"You heard the chief," Lewinsky said. "Shut up."
Banner threw him a hard look. "Hey, that's original, Carl."
"You don't have to be such a goddamn prick. We need to work together and figure a way out of this shit."
"We wouldn't be in this shit in the first place if"
"Don't say it," Hammond barked, "or you're back on traffic duty. And whose fucking phone is that, anyway?"
They looked at each other, then at the car.
"Shit," Hammond said.
He went around to the passenger side and fished the ringing cell phone out of Brand's windbreaker. He took a breath and pressed the OK button to accept the call.
"Yeah?" he said, wondering if he should try to sound like Brand or what.
No one was there. But there was no dial tone, either. He listened closely, the phone against his ear, his free hand blocking out the traffic noise.
Faintly he heard a man's voice, raised in an angry rant.
" amp; a whole new wrinkle for me. You know, I never did the nasty with them girls I snatched. Was always too looped to get it up. Ain't looped now."
He knew that voice. He'd heard it on news clips of Justin Gray's trial, which had been playing on the local news all night.
Lewinsky and Banner had reached him. "Who is it?" Lewinsky asked softly.
Hammond cupped the phone with his hand. "Gray."
Banner blinked. "You're shitting me."
"Yeah, that's right, Phil. April fool." Hammond checked the phone's LCD readout. "Brand's got caller ID. We can find out who placed this call."
Lewinsky had his pad out. "Give me the number. I'll do it."
Hammond listened again as Lewinsky moved away to use his cell phone, but now the only sounds on the line were distant, indecipherable noises. He heard a new voice raised in a shout. A female voice.
"Someone's with him," Hammond said. "A woman."
Banner shook his head. "Another victim. This is getting better and better."
Hammond turned to him. "You just don't fucking get it, do you? This is our break. We trace the call and we know where he is. Right now, in real time."
"Brand's still dead," Banner said morosely. "It's still a royal fuckup."
"Brand died in the performance of his duties. He's a goddamn hero. He led us directly to the whereabouts of the city's most wanted man and saved untold lives. Jesus, Phil, get with the program."
Lewinsky finished his call. "The call is being made from a cell phoneand it's assigned to Robin Cameron."
Hammond stared at him. "The shrink? Jesus."
"Maybe she's the one he's got with him," Banner said.
"Thanks, Phil, that never would've occurred to me." Hammond looked at Lewinsky. "Can we trace the call?"
"To the nearest transmission tower."
"We need a warrant?"
"Not if her service provider will cooperate. I've got RHD working it now. They'll call me when they get anything."
Hammond motioned to Banner. "Go tell these A-cars to get ready to rumble. We get a fix on this location, we're rolling."
Banner shifted his stance nervously. "Isn't that someone else's job? I mean, we're admin. Not, you know amp;"
"Not real cops? We're real cops tonight."
Banner, looking unhappy, headed toward the squad cars. Lewinsky's phone chirped. He answered, making brief affirmative noises and scribbling on his pad.
"RHD came through," he said to Hammond. "The call's being routed through a cell tower at South Central Avenue and Fourteenth Street. That's only a few blocks north of the freeway."
"The old commercial district," Hammond said. "Factories and warehouses."
"Right. Five minutes from here. We good to go?"
Hammond hesitated only a moment. "Let's do it. Let's nail this son of a bitch."
Chapter Fifty-nine
"I never understood.'" Gray mimicked her, his voice raised in a falsetto. "You bet you didn't. You never got me at all."
He chuckled, an ugly sound.
"All that shit about my daddy burning me and belting mefuck, yeah, he did, 'cause I was always shoplifting and setting fires and ripping off his cash. Okay, he wasn't no A-one parent. And my mama was a dumb ugly cow who never opened her mouth 'cept to stuff it with cheeseburgers and fries. They were a pair of low cards I drew, but fuck it all, I still don't blame them for the way I turned out. You're the one who's into the blame game. Me, I know my childhood sucked, and now I get to make other people's lives suck. Seems fair, don't it? What goes around, comes around. And now it's coming around to you, Doc. You and Meg."
Robin pulled Meg closer. "Don't do this, Justin, please."
"You don't tell me what to do, Doc-aroo. I'm the one running this show."
"Take me if you want, but not Meg"
"Shut up."
"Please, not Meg"
"I said, shut the fuck up!"
He struck her hard across the face, a ringing blow that sent her reeling backward into one of the old crates strewn on the floor. She fell on it, and the crate shattered, throwing up white whorls of dust.
In the passenger seat of his sedan, Hammond was on the dashboard radio.
"We're code two to the scene. Request Air Support at Central Avenue and Fourteenth. Have reason to believe the fugitive Justin Gray is in the vicinity. Tell ASTRO to look for a green late-model Volkswagen. Hold on." He turned to Lewinsky in the backseat. "How big a coverage area for the cell tower?"
"An urban sector's maybe one or two city blocks, that's all."
He spoke into the microphone again. "We're looking at a radius of one to two blocks."
"Roger that," the dispatcher said. "Air Fourteen en route, ETA two minutes."
"They'll beat us there," the driver said.
Hammond nodded. "But not by much."
Robin's head echoed with the punch. She tasted blood in her mouth. Her tongue seemed large and unwieldy.
She made an effort to rise, but fell down, coughing on dust and wood splinters.
"I been in stir a year without a taste of pussy," Gray said. "Got me a hard-on like a Louisville slugger, and it's all for you."
"Chief Hammond, Air Fourteen on tac one."
Hammond switched to the tactical frequency and heard the voice of the airship's observer.
"Air Fourteen. We have a visual on the Volkswagen. Parked in an alley in back of a large industrial site at Central and Pico. Second vehicle at the same locationone of ours, a slickback." Slickback was LAPD slang for a black-and-white police vehicle without roof lights. "No signs of occupancy in either car."
"A slickback?" Lewinsky said from the backseat. "Whose is it?"
It was easy enough to identify the car from the air. The last three digits of the shop number were stenciled on the roof, and the division number was similarly displayed on the trunk. But Hammond wasn't worried about the slickback at the moment.
"Forget the LAPD car for now, Air Fourteen. We're looking for a Caucasian male on foot. He's wearing a denim jacket and tan or brown pants." The carjack victim had given the description to the first patrol officers on the scene.
"Air Fourteen, roger. No visual on suspect. There's a means of ingress to the factory groundsan open gate."
"Gray could be inside the building," Banner said, master of the obvious.
Hammond turned to the driver. "Bring us around to the back alley. We're going in." He switched from the tac frequency to the main comm channel. "This is Hammond, requesting Central Area patrol units as backup."
The dispatcher rogered him.
"We wait for the backup, right?" Banner asked nervously.
"No, we don't." As the car swung off the freeway onto Central Avenue, Hammond drew the pistol from his belt holster. It had never been fired on the job. "Lock and load, gentlemen."
In Dark Places Page 30
