by Robert Crais
time missing: 7 hours, 4 minutes
Beverly Hills makes people think of mansions and hillbillies, but the flats south of Wilshire are lined with modest stucco homes and sturdy bungalow apartments that would go unnoticed in any American town. Lucy and Ben shared an apartment in a two-story building shaped like a U, with the mouth facing the street and the arms embracing a stairway courtyard filled with birds-of-paradise and two towering palms. It was not a limousine street, but a black Presidential stretch was waiting by the fire hydrant outside her building. I wedged my car into a parking spot half a block down and walked up the sidewalk. The limo driver was reading a magazine behind the wheel with the windows raised and the engine running. Two men were smoking in a Mercury Marquis parked across the street in front of Gittamon's car. They were thick men in their late forties with ruddy faces, short hair, and the flat expressions of men who were used to being in the wrong place at the wrong time and weren't much bothered by it. They watched me like cops. I went up the stairs and rang her bell. A man I had never met before answered the door. "May I help you?"
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It was Richard. I put out my hand.
"Elvis Cole. I wish we weren't meeting like this." Richard's face darkened. He ignored my hand. "I wish we weren't meeting at all."
Lucy stepped in front of him, looking uncomfortable
and irritated. Richard was good at making her angry. She said, "Don't start."
"I told you this would happen, didn't I? How many
times did I tell you, but you wouldn't listen?" "Richard, just stop, please."
I said, "Yes, now would be the time to stop." Something sour flickered in Richard's eyes, bu then he turned back into her apartment. Richard was Lucy's age, but his hair was silver on the sides and thinning badly. He wore a black knit shirt, khaki slacks that were wrinkled from the plane, and Bruno Magli mocs that cost more than I made in a week. Even wrinkled and sleepless, Richard looked rich. He owned a natural gas company with international holdings.
Lucy lowered her voice as I followed her inside.
"They just got here. I called to tell you that he landed, but I guess you were on your way over."
Richard had joined a solidly built man in a dark business suit in Lucy's living room. The man had steel-gray hair so short that he was nearly bald, and eyes that looked like the wrong end of gun sights. He put out his hand.
"Leland Myers. I run security for Richard's company."
Richard said, "I brought Lee to help find Ben since you people managed to lose him."
As Myers and I shook, Gittamon came out of the hall with Ben's orange iMac. He huffed with the weight as he put it on a little table by her door.
"We'll have his E-mail by the end of the day. You'd be
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surprised what children tell their friends." I was annoyed that Gittamon was still chasing the staged abduction theory, but I wanted to be careful with how I described what we found on the slope to Lucy. "You're not going to find anything in his Email, Sergeant. Starkey and I searched the slope this morning. We found a shoe print where Ben dropped his Game Freak. It was probably left by the man who took Ben, and he was likely someone who served with me in Vietnam." Lucy shook her head. "I thought the others were dead." "They are, but now I think that the person who did this has a certain type of combat experience. I gave Starkey a list of names, and I'll try to remember more. She called SID to try for a cast of the print. Any luck, and we might get a pretty good guess of his height and weight." Richard and Myers glanced at each other, then Richard crossed his arms, frowning. Richard said, "Lucy told me the man mentioned Vietnam last night, and that all of this had something to do with you. Were we doubting this before now?" "People can say anything, Richard. Now I know he's for real." Myers said, "What do you mean, a certain type of combat experience ?" "You don't learn how to move the way this man moved by hunting deer on the weekends or going through ROTC. This guy spent time in places where he was surrounded by people who would kill him if they found him, so he knows how to move without leaving a trail. Also, we didn't find signs of a struggle, which means Ben never saw him coming." I told them how Ben's footprints ended abruptly and 69
that we had found only the one other print. Myers took notes while I described the scene, with Richard crossing and recrossing his arms with increasing agitation. By the time I finished he was pacing Lucy's small living room in tight circles. "This is fucking great, Cole. You're saying some kind of murdering Green Beret commando like Rambo took my son?" Gittamon checked his pager, looking unhappy with me "We don't know that, Mr. Chenier. Once SID reaches the scene, we'll investigate more thoroughly. Mr. Cole might be jumping at conclusions without enough evi I said, "I'm not jumping at anything, Gittamon. I came here because I want you to see for yourself. SID is on the way now." Richard glanced at Gittamon, then stared at Lucy. "No, I'm sure that Mr. Cole has it right. I'm sure this man is every bit as dangerous as Cole believes. Cole has a history of drawing people like this. A man named Rossier almost killed my ex-wife back in Louisiana thanks to Mr. Cole." The corners of Lucy's mouth tightened with pale dots. "We've been over that enough, Richard." Richard kept going. "Then she moved here to Los Angeles so another lunatic named Sobek could stalk our son--how many people did he kill, Lucille? Seven, eight? He was some kind of serial killer or something." Lucy stepped in front of him, and lowered her voice. "Stop it, Richard. You don't always have to be an asshole." Richard's voice grew louder. 7°
"I tried to tell her that associating with Cole puts them in danger, but would she listen? No. She didn't listen because our son's safety wasn't as important as her getting what she wants." Lucy slapped him with a single hard shot that snapped on his cheek like a firecracker. "I told you to stop." Gittamon squirmed as if he wished he were anywhere else. Myers touched Richard's arm. "Richard." Richard didn't move. "Richard, we need to get started." Richard's iaw knotted as if he wanted to say more but was chewing the words to keep them inside. He glanced at Lucy, then averted his eyes as if he suddenly felt awkward and embarrassed by his outburst. He lowered his voice. "I promised myself I wouldn't do that, Lucille. I'm sorry." Lucy didn't answer. Her lft nostril pulsed as she breathed. I could hear her breathing from across the room. Richard wet his lips, the awkwardness giving him the air of a little boy who had been caught doing something naughty and embarrassing. He moved away from her, then shrugged at Gittamon. "She's right, Sergeant--I'm an asshole, but I love my son and I'm worried about him. I'll do whatever I canto find him. That's why I'm here, and that's why I brought Lee." Myers cleared his throat. "We should see this hill Cole described. Debbie's good with a crime scene. He should be in on this." Gittamon said, "Who's Debbie?" Richard glanced at Lucy again, then sat on a hard chair 7I
in the corner. He rubbed his face with both hands. "Debbie DeNice; it's short for Debulon or something. He's a retired New Orleans detective. Homicide or something, right, Lee?" "Homicide. Phenomenal case clearance rate." Richard pushed to his feet. "The best in the city. Everyone I brought is the best. I'll find Ben if I have to hire Scotland-fucking-Yard." Myers glanced at Gittamon, then me. "I'd like to get my people up to your house, Cole. I'd also like a copy of those names." "Starkey has the list. We can make a copy." He glanced at Gittamon. "If SID is on the way, we'd better get going, but I'd also like a quick brief on what we know and what's being done, Sergeant. Can I count on you for that?" "Oh, yes, absolutely." I gave him directions to my house. Myers copied them onto a Palm Pilot, then offered to carry Ben's computer down to Gittamon's car. They left together. Richard followed after them, but hesitated when he reached Lucy. He glanced at me, and his mouth tightened as if he smelled bile. "Are you coming?" "In a minute." Richard looked at Lucy, and the hardness around his mouth softened. He touched her arm. "I'm staying at the Beverly Hills on Sunset. I shouldn't have said those things, Lucille. I regret them and I apologize, but they're true." He glanced at me again, then left. Lucy raised a hand to her forehead. "This is a nightmare." time missing: i8 hours, oS minutes
<
br /> The sun had risen like a mid-morning flare, so intense that it washed the color from the sky and made the palm trees glimmer. Gittamon had gone by the time I reached the street, but Richard was waiting by the black limo with Myers and the two men from the Marquis. They were probably his people from New Orleans. They stopped talking when I came around the birdsofparadise, and Richard stepped in front of the others to meet me. He didn't bother hiding his feelings now; his face was angry and intent. "I've got something to say to you." "Let me guess: You're not going to ask where I bought the shirt." "This is your fault. It's only a matter of time before one of them gets killed because of you, and I'm not going to let that happen." Myers drifted up and touched Richard's arm. "We don't have time for this." Richard brushed away his hand. "I want to say it." I said, "Take his advice, Richard. Please." Debbie DeNice and Ray Fontenot moved to Richard's other side. DeNice was a large-boned man with gray eyes the color of soapy dishwater. Fontenot was an exNOPD detective like DeNice. He was tall and angular with a bad scar on his neck. DeNice said, "Take his advice or what?" It had been a long night. Pressure built in my head until my eyes felt hard. I answered him calmly. "It's still morning. We're going to see a lot of each other." Richard said, "Not if I can help it. I don't like you, Cole. I don't trust you. You draw trouble like flies to puke, and I want you to stay away from my family."
I made myself breathe. Further up the street, a middleaged woman walked a pug. It waddled as it looked for a place to pee. This man was Ben's father and Lucy's former husband. I told myself that if I said or did anything to this man it would hurt them. We didn't have
time for this nonsense. We had to find Ben.
"I'll see you up at the house."
I tried to go around them, but DeNice stepped ,sideways to block my path.
"You don' know whut you dealin' with, podnuh." Fontenot smiled softly.
"Oh, yeah, you got that right."
Myers said, "Debbie. Ray."
Neither of them moved. Richard stared at Lucy's apartment and wet his lips again as he had upstairs. He seemed more confused than angry.
"She was stupid and selfish to move to Los Angeles. She was stupid to be involved with someone like you, and selfish to take Ben away. I hope she comes to her senses before one of them dies."
DeNice was a wide man with a lurid face that made me think of a homicidal clown. He had small scars on the bridge of his nose. New Orleans was probably a tough beat, but he looked like the kind of man who enjoyed it tough. I could have tried again to step around him, but I didn't.
"Get out of my way."
DeNice opened his sport coat to flash his gun, and I wondered if they were impressed with that down in the Ninth Ward.
DeNice said, "You don't get the picture."
Something flickered at the edges of light an arm roped with thick veins looped around DeNice's neck a heavy blue. 357 Colt Python appeared under his right arm, the sound as it cocked like breaking knuckles. DeNice floundered off balance as Joe Pike lifted him backwards, Pike's voice a soft hiss.
"Picture this."
Fontenot clawed under his own jacket. Pike snapped the .357 across Fontenot's face. Fontenot staggered. The woman down the street glanced over, but all she saw were six men on the walk with one of them clutching his face.
I said, "Richard, we don't have time for this. We have to find Ben."
Pike wore a sleeveless gray sweatshirt, jeans, and dark glasses that glittered in the sun. The muscles in his arm were bunched like cobblestones around DeNice's neck. The red arrow tattooed across his deltoid was stretched tight with inner tension.
Myers watched Pike the way a lizard watches, not really seeing, more like he was waiting for something that would trigger his own preordained reaction: attack, retreat, fight.
Myers spoke calmly.
"That was stupid, Debbie, stupid and unprofessional. You see, Richard? You can't play with people like this."
Richard seemed to wake, as if he was coming out of a fog. He shook his head.
"Jesus Christ, Lee, what does DeNice think he's doing. I just wanted to talk to Cole. I can't have something like this."
Myers never looked away from Joe. He took DeNice's arm even though Pike still held him.
"I'm sorry, Richard. I'll talk to him."
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Myers tugged the arm. "We're good now. Let go." Pike's arm tightened.
I said, "Richard, listen. I know you're upset, but I'm upset, too. We have to focus on Ben. Finding Ben comes first. You have to remember that. Now go get into your car. I don't want to have this conversation again."
Richard's jaw popped and flexed, but then he went to his car.
Myers was still watching Pike.
"You going to let go?"
DeNice said, "You better let go, you motherfucker!" I said, "It's okay now, Joe. Let him go." Pike said, "Whatever."
DeNice could have played it smart, but didn't. When Pike released him, DeNice spun and threw a hard straight punch. He moved a lot faster than a thick man should and used his legs with his elbow tight to his body. DeNice had probably surprised a lot of men with his speed, which is why he thought he could do it. Pike slipped the punch, trapped DeNice's arm in a joint lock, and hooked DeNice's legs from under him in the same moment. DeNice hit the sidewalk flat on his back. His head bounced on the concrete.
Richard called from the limo.
"Goddamnit, Lee!"
Myers checked DeNice's eyes. They were glassy. He pulled DeNice to his feet and pushed him toward the Marquis. Fontenot was already behind the wheel, holding a bloody handkerchief to his face.
Myers considered Pike for a moment, then me. "They're just cops."
He joined Richard at the limo, and then both cars drove away.
When I turned to Joe, I saw a dark glimmer at the edge of his lip.
"Hey. What's that?"
I looked more closely. A red pearl colored the corner of his mouth.
"You're bleeding. Did that guy tag you?"
Pike never got tagged. Pike was way too fast ever to get tagged. He touched away the blood, then climbed into my car.
"Tell me about Ben."
Boy Meets Queen
Help!"
Ben pressed his ear to a tiny hole cut into the top of the box, but all he heard was a faraway shush like when you hold a seashell to your ear.
He cupped his mouth to the hole. "Can anyone hear me?" No one answered.
A light had appeared over Ben's head that morning, shining like a faraway star. An air hole had been cut into the box. Ben put his eye to the hole, and saw a tiny disk of blue at the end of a tube.
"I'm down here! Help me! Help!" No one answered. "'HELP!"
Ben had ripped the tape from his wrists and legs, then freaked out during the night: He kicked the walls like a baby having a tantrum, and tried to push off the top by getting on all fours. He thrashed around like a worm on a hot sidewalk because he thought that bugs were eating him alive. Ben was absolutely and completely
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certain that Mike and Eric and the African had been T-boned by a speeding bus on their way to the In-NOut turger. They had been crushed to red goo and bone chips, and now no one knew that he was trapped in this awful box. He would starve to death and die of thirst and end up looking like something on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Ben lost track of time and drifted at the edges of sleep. He didn't know if he was awake or asleep. "HELPI'MD 0 WNHERE!PLEASELETME 0 UT!'" No one answered. "MAMAAAAAAAAA!" Something kicked his foot and he jumped as if ten thousand volts had amped through his body. "Jesus, kid! Stop whining!" The Queen of Blame leaned on her elbow at the far end of the box: a beautiful young woman with silky black hair, long golden legs, and voluptuous breasts spilling out of a tiny halter. She didn't look happy. Ben shrieked, and the Queen plugged her ears. "Christ, you're loud." "You're not real! You're only a game!" "Then this won't hurt." She twisted his foot. Hard. "Ow!" Ben scrambled backwards, slipping and sliding with no place to go. She couldn't be real! He
was trapped in a nightmare! The Queen grinned nastily, then touched him with the toe of a gleaming vinyl boot. "You don't think I'm real, big guy? Go ahead. Feel it." "No I" She arched her eyebrows knowingly and stroked her boot along his leg. "You know how many boys wanna touch that boot? Feel it. See if I'm real."
Ben reached out with a finger. The boot was as slick as a polished car and as solid as the box around him. Her
toes flexed. Ben jerked back his hand.
The Queen laughed.
"You wouldn't last two seconds against Modus!" "I'm only ten! I'm scared and I want to go home!"
The Queen examined her nails as if she was bored.
Each nail was a glistening razor-sharp emerald. "So go. You can leave any time you want." "I've been trying to go. We're trapped!" The Queen raised her eyebrows again. "Are we?"
She watched him without expression, tracing her nails over a belly that was as flat as tiles on a floor. Her nails
were so sharp that they scratched her skin.
"You can leave any time you want."
Ben thought she was teasing him, and his eyes welled with tears.
"That isn't funny! I've been calling for help all night and no one can hear me!"
The Queen's beautiful face grew fierce. Her eyes blazed like deranged yellow orbs and her hand raked the air like a claw.
"Claw your way out, you idiot! See how SHARP!" Ben cowered back, terrified. "Get away from me!"
She leaned closer, fingers weaving like snakes. Her nails were glittering knives.
"FEEL THE SHARP POINTS! FEEL HOW THEY CUT!"
"Go away!"
She lunged at him.
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Ben threw his arms over his head. He screamed as the
razor-sharp points dug into his leg.
Then he woke up.
Ben found himself curled into a ball, cowering. He blinked into the darkness, listening. The box was silent and empty. He was alone. It had all been a nightmare, except that Ben could still feel the sharp pain of her nails in his thigh.
He rolled onto his side, and the sharp thing bit deeper. "Ouch!"
