"We raided them. Well, not us. The Southeast Area troops."
"How'd that happen?"
"I made a call to their CO."
"You?"
He leaned closer, straining to be heard over the noise. "What you said yesterday got me thinking. You know, how I knew the fights had started up again, and I hadn't stopped them."
"You did the right thing."
"They'll just start up again someplace else. Anyway, Brand wasn't nabbed."
"So if he wasn't at the dogfights, where was he?"
"Don't know."
"Wouldn't you like to find out?"
"I was thinking I might put the question to him later."
"Let's put the question to him now."
She took out her cell phone and dialed, maneuvering into a quieter area where she could hear Brand if he answered.
"You know his number?" Wolper asked.
"His cell phone number, yes. I called it half a dozen times yesterday."
"Like I said in the car, it's Gray we should be focused on."
Rationally she knew he was right. But as she'd told him, there was more to life than logic. Intuition had its place also, and her intuition was insisting that Sergeant Brand should not be ignored.
Five rings, and no one had picked up. She was about to end the call when she became aware of an echo in the ringing. No, not an echo. A second ring, this one coming from the crowd.
She peered into the sea of shadows, then saw him. "Look."
Wolper had his hand on his gun. "Gray?"
She shook her head. "Brand."
Brand was getting close, wondering how to get Wolper out of the way, when his phone started to ring in the pocket of his windbreaker.
He didn't want to answer it, but after five rings he started to worry about the noise. Then he saw that Robin Cameron had a cell phone to her ear, and somehow he knew she was calling him.
In that moment she raised her head and looked right at him.
Shit. He'd been made.
Wolper followed Robin's gaze. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"That's another thing we need to ask him."
He nodded. "We will." He took a step forward.
Brand broke into a run.
"Stay here. I'm going after him."
She didn't argue. Chasing a suspect was Wolper's businessand Brand was looking more like a suspect every minute.
She noticed that her cell phone was still ringing Brand's number. She ended the call, then gazed across the arcade. Brand and Wolper were both lost to sight.
The phone in her hand rang. Stupidly she thought it might be Brand. She look the call and held the phone close to her head, cupping her other ear against the background din. "Yes?"
"Why're you lyin' about me?"
The voice was slurred and distant, but she knew it at once.
"Justin?" she said.
Chapter Forty
Gray had a pretty good buzz goingnothing major, just enough to take the edge off after a long, hard day. That six-pack he'd picked up had hit the spot. After a year in stir, he'd worked up a serious thirst. He'd polished off four of the sixteen-ounce cans. Maybe five. He'd lost track. Shit, there was more where that came from.
Only trouble with beer was that it didn't stay with you very long. As his daddy used to say, you don't buy beer; you rent it. In compliance with his father's wisdom and his own biological needs, he was now standing at a urinal, reading the pathetic graffiti scratched into the men's-room wall.
Dumb racist epithets. Queer jokes and queer come-ons. Gangsta slang and other attempts at establishing street cred by obvious wanna-bes. All in all, just a mess of stupid crap written by peewee paintheads and fake-ass homeboys who spent more time wanking off than getting laid, teenage punks still squeezing their zits and wearing their puny hard-ons like badges of honor. This shit was just a goof to them.
Gray voided an amber stream and wondered how them fairies would like to meet a real man, a bona fucking fide major violator with blood on his hands.
A famous man. Or infamous, notorious, whatever the fuck the right word was. He was all over the news, and everyone in this city was saying his name.
He didn't expect to be caught, though. He'd taken precautions. Okay, maybe he'd been a little more alert before he got those beers in him, and maybe the beers had even been a mistake. But he was pretty sure he'd covered his tracks well enough to keep the boys in blue off his back, at least for now.
He ought to be feeling fine. Trouble was, those bogus news stories still had him mighty peeved. Every time he thought about the lies and the games and the crap they were putting on the air, he got ticked off all over again.
"Motherfucker," he said as he finished peeing. He zipped up and left without washing his hands. Personal hygiene had never been his strong suit.
In the alcove outside the rest rooms, there was a pay phone.
He stopped, staring at the phone, thinking about the business card he'd swiped from the doc's office weeks ago. A card that listed her cell phone number. A number he remembered, having dialed it just last night.
He moved to the phone. If not for the beers, he wouldn't do this. He knew he ought to show more sense. But fuck it all, he hated being jerked around, and that sexless bitch of a shrink had been yanking his chain from day one.
He dropped coins into the slot and dialed.
"Motherfucker," he said again, with feeling, as the phone rang on the other end of the line.
The ringing stopped, and over a rush of background noise he heard the doc say, "Yes?"
"Why're you lyin' about me?"
"Justin?"
"I don't got enough on my record, you gotta add stuff I didn't do?" The noise intensified, obliterating her response. "Doc? You there?"
"I'm here."
"You at a nightclub or something?"
"I'm looking for you."
"Where?"
"Never mind that."
"Everybody else thinks I hightailed it for the Mojave, and you're trolling the clubs in Hollywood, I bet. Thinking outside the box. I like that. But I ain't dumb enough to go back to my home turf."
"It was worth a shot."
"Sure it was. You're smart, Doc. I like youor I used to, till you started fibbing on me."
"Justin, where is she?"
"Your darling daughter? The one all the news reports say I kidnapped? I ain't got her. I never touched her."
"Justin, slow down"
"Why? So you can have this call traced?"
"They can do an instant trace on most calls these days."
"Okay, now at least you're being honest. Truth is, I don't care about no trace. The boys in blue can't snatch me. I'm too quick for 'em. LA's finest show up, and I'm Swayze, I'm a ghost. Great thing about LA is, you can jump on a freeway anywhere. That's what makes this town the bank robbery capital of the world."
"What are you talking about?"
"It's a sucker's game, knocking over banks. They always get you on the security cameras. Besides, the cash is always traceable or rigged with those explosive doohickeys that blow red dye all over the place"
"Where is my daughter?"
"Oh, we still jawing about her? Straight up, Doc Robin, I got no idea."
"You took her; you have her"
"Wrong and wrong. She's probably out playing tea party with one of her little girlie friends."
"Do you want me? You can have me for her."
"That's downright noble. I'm getting all choked up; I really am. Look, if I had to guess, I'd say it's the other guy who's got her. The guy that clocked you."
"I'm not interested in your lies."
"No lie, Doc Robin. I told you true. You said you believed me."
"And you had a screwdriver against my throat."