"I want you to see the house first. You have fresh eyes, you're faster, and you'll see things they miss."
Cole tried to look modest.
"That goes without saying."
"But you won't have much time. We get you set up, I'm going to Button. He'll move on Smith's house, so we have to move on it first."
Cole glanced at Mendoza's picture again, then handed it back.
"Let's get busy."
Pike led the way with Cole following in his own car. Because of the narrow lanes and difficult parking, they left their vehicles on Venice Boulevard and approached Smith's house on foot. Pike didn't want another conversation with the Palmers, so he stopped well out of their view to point out Smith's house. Pike had already warned Cole about Jared.
When Cole saw the house, he glanced at Pike.
"A dude trying to make a go of a sandwich shop owns this place?"
"They're house-sitting. It's owned by a retired TV writer."
"Were you inside?"
"Only to check for bodies. I entered through the side window at the laundry room, but I didn't disturb the scene."
Pike described finding no signs of forced entry outside the house, and no blood evidence or signs of struggle in the carport or courtyard inside the front gate. He wanted Cole to concentrate on the interior because their time would be limited once he went to the police.
"When I finish with Button, I'll call you, then I'll sit on the girlfriend's house. I put her and Azzara in play to stress Mendoza. When Button comes in he'll jack the pressure even more, and Mendoza might break for home."
Stressing the enemy was a tactic Pike had used in the field. Put enough stress on the target, he would panic and run. They almost always broke for home.
Cole said, "Sounds good. I'll see what I can find out about Mendoza and Gomer, and relieve you later tonight."
They were finished, and Pike knew he should roll out, but he stared at the house. He imagined Dru and Wilson inside after they returned from their shop. He saw Mendoza and the second man moving toward the gate, then put what he saw next out of his head.
Pike realized Cole had said something, but hadn't heard what. Cole was watching him with a curious expression, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle.
"You okay?"
"I told her I took care of it. That they wouldn't be bothered again."
The sudden sympathy in Cole's eyes left Pike feeling embarrassed. He looked away.
Cole said, "Hey."
Pike looked back.
"Am I not the World's Greatest Detective?"
Pike nodded.
"I'm on it, Joseph. We'll find her."
Cole walked away before Pike could respond.
Pike watched his friend for a moment, then headed back to his Jeep. Time was passing, and time was the enemy.
Pike drove hard for the Pacific Community Police Station.
16
The PCPS was a low, modern brick building surrounded by a block wall and wispy pine trees on Culver Boulevard less than a mile from Pike's home. A flagpole bearing the American flag stood proudly out front, across from a billboard advertising a bail bondsman. The middle-class homes across the boulevard were neat and attractive. These neighborhoods-like the police station-made it difficult to believe that wars between rival gangs often filled the streets with blood only a few minutes away.
Pike pulled to the curb by the flagpole at seven minutes after three. The watch would change at four, so any detectives not in court or in the field would be inside finishing up for the day. Pike needed to find out if Button was one of them.
He phoned Information for the PCPS detective desk number, then called.
"Pacific. This is Detective Harrison."
"This is Dale King at the PAB. Is Button still there?"
The Police Administration Building was the new administrative building that had replaced Parker Center.
Harrison said, "Yeah, hang on. I'll get him."
Pike waited until she put him on hold, then closed his phone. Believing Button would refuse to see him, Pike walked around the side of the station through the civilian parking lot, then hopped a low wall and went to the two-story parking structure where officers kept their cars. He didn't like losing the time, but he didn't have long to wait.
Fourteen minutes later, Button came out the rear of the station in a loose file of other detectives and uniformed officers on their way to their cars. He carried a briefcase with his jacket and tie over his opposite arm, and wore a light blue shirt with sweat rings under the arms. A small revolver was clipped to his belt.
Pike was behind a column when Button passed, angling toward a tan Toyota pickup. Button shifted his jacket from his right arm to his left, and was fishing for his keys when Pike stepped from behind the column.
"Button."
Button lurched sideways at Pike's appearance. He scrambled for his gun, dropping his briefcase and keys as he got hung up in his jacket.
Pike calmly raised his hands, showing his palms.
"We're good."
If Button was embarrassed by his reaction, he didn't show it. He picked up his briefcase and keys, and continued toward his truck.
"This is an off-limits police parking area. Get out."
"They were abducted."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Wilson Smith and Dru Rayne. They're gone."
Button unlocked the truck, and tossed his jacket and briefcase inside.
"They're on their way to Oregon, man. And another thing-Straw is fucking livid, not that it matters a damn. Fucking self-important Fed. He probably hates you more than I do."
"Reuben Mendoza and a second man who might have been Gomer were at their home at eight forty-five this morning. What time did Smith call?"
Button already had one leg in the truck, but now he backed out, squinting at Pike.
"How do you know he called me?"
"Hydeck. I was at Smith's shop when you spoke with her. From there, I went to Smith's house."
"Is this for real?"
"They have a locked front gate you have to go through to enter the property. The kid next door saw Mendoza and another man going through the gate at eight forty-five. Jared Palmer. Talk to him."
Pike saw the strain on Button's face as he weighed his hatred of Pike against what he was hearing, as if he had to climb a wall before he could move forward. He finally walked over, leaving the Toyota's door open.
"How's the kid know Mendoza?"
"He doesn't. I showed him this."
Pike held out the snapshot. Button gave it a glance, but did not touch it.
"One to ten, how confident was he?"
"Ten."
"He's sure about the time?"
"The mother pegged it to the Today show. Jared went out for some chocolate milk at the beginning of the eight-o'clock hour and got back a few minutes after the half-hour break. That puts Mendoza there at about eight forty-five. When did you hear from Smith?"
Button glanced at the snapshot again, and this time he took it to examine Mendoza more closely.
"What about the second man? Was it Gomer?"
"I didn't have a picture of Gomer. What time did you talk to Smith?"
"Around nine, right in there, maybe a few minutes after."
Button frowned as he thought about it and what it would mean if it were true, but he still didn't buy it. He shook his head.
"There's no way. He didn't say anything about this."
"Maybe Mendoza had a gun to his head."
"There's no way. The kid was confused."
"He saw the cast. I didn't prompt him, Button. He told me the man was wearing a cast. He saw them going in through the front gate at eight forty-five."
Button glanced at the picture again as if he still couldn't see it clearly.
"I talked to the man. He was fine."
"Not if Mendoza was with him."
Button flushed, and his eyes shrank into dark little bullets.