“No,” Frost said. “We don’t.”
“Good. Now here’s what I want you to do. Go home. Grieve for Jess. Grieve for your sister. Take another week of vacation, and make it a real vacation this time, got it? Fly to a beach somewhere, or go hiking in the mountains, or just sit at home and clear your head. But whatever you do, stay the hell out of this case. Have I made myself absolutely clear?”
“You have,” Frost said.
“That’ll be all, Easton.”
“Yes, sir.”
He got out of the chair and headed for the door, but Hayden called after him in a voice not much louder than a sigh. “Frost.”
He turned around in surprise. The captain stood up and came around to the other side of the desk again. “I assume that once upon a time, Jess gave you her little speech about the line,” Hayden said.
“Several times.”
There was a silence between them. Frost expected something more, but Hayden simply whispered, “Good, good.”
That was it. The meeting was over.
Frost didn’t know what had just happened. He was in the elevator, leaving the building before he understood. The line. It was the line you had to cross as a cop sometimes, even if you got fired for doing the right thing, even if no one could protect you.
Hayden had given Frost a direct order to drop the investigation against Rudy Cutter. Then he’d added a postscript off the record.
Keep going.
28
The sun pushed above the East Bay hills, casting a golden glow on the water and making silhouettes of the Bay Bridge towers. Rudy stood with a takeaway cup of black coffee in his hand, steps from the Ferry Building, as he watched the dawn. He was freshly shaved and showered; the shower basin was bleached. His underwear, shirt, and jeans were clean and new. Half a mile away, at the bottom of a street corner trash bin, he’d deposited a tightly sealed plastic bag with last night’s bloody clothes.
Now we’re even, Jess.
Dealing with her had slowed him down. He’d wanted to cross her off his list on the first night he was free, but she’d been waiting for him, and that had forced him to develop a different plan. He felt satisfaction that the attack had gone as he anticipated, but he also felt oddly empty about the experience. He’d expected adrenaline. He’d expected the high of being back in the game. Instead, the violence itself had done nothing for him. Watching her realize that he’d won, watching the light go out of her eyes, had been a hollow victory.
Maria Lopes would be different.
Hope would be with him for Maria Lopes, as she had been for the others. Screaming for him to stop.
Rudy sipped his coffee. He’d bought it at the same coffee shop in the Ferry Building where he’d met Nina Flores. He hadn’t been back there since that first time. He’d been idly curious if anyone would recognize him, but no one did. He’d ordered, got his coffee, and left. There had been no life-changing, heart-stopping moment as there had been with Nina.
In the shadows of the Ferry Building, he watched the woman sitting on the waterfront bench not far away. They had the Embarcadero mostly to themselves. She wasn’t aware of him, although he’d been following her for half an hour. She had coffee, as he did, from the same place; he’d been four customers behind her in line. He thought it was interesting that she went there, bypassing other coffee shops on the route that led from her apartment to the water.
He walked along the sidewalk, approaching her. She was too caught up in her thoughts to notice him. She was on the bayside bench, and he sat down on the city-facing bench directly behind her. All the other benches around them were empty. He could feel her stiffen with annoyance that she was sharing her morning with a stranger.
“Hello, Eden,” he said.
His voice was like the touch of a live wire, jolting her to her feet. She spun around, and he heard some of her coffee splatter on the sidewalk. He stared at the palm trees of the Embarcadero without looking back at her.
“What are you doing here, Rudy?” she demanded.
“I miss our chats.”
“Get the hell away from me!”
“That’s no way to talk to an old friend,” he replied smoothly. “You’re the one who wanted the voice inside, remember? How can you get that if we don’t talk?”
“How did you find me?”
“I do my research, just like you. I like your new place, by the way. High-floor condo. Security building. No one’s likely to wander in off the street and surprise you, are they?”
He didn’t think she would run away. Not from him. He saw her studying the street in both directions to confirm that they were alone. She came around to the other side of the bench and sat down next to him. Her face was drawn and tired, without makeup.
“Not sleeping well?” he asked. “Still having nightmares?”
“I don’t need your concern.”
“Well, I know how it is. You close your eyes, and you’re right back in the past. That’s how trauma works. I’d like to tell you it gets better, but it doesn’t. It’s with you until you die.”
“Shut up, Rudy.”
He watched her touch the scar that adorned her skin like a necklace. He’d seen her do that many times. It was a habit, like a way to remind herself who she was. She was layer upon layer of toughness. That was how she’d survived. If it came to a battle between the two of them, he didn’t know who would win.
“Have you seen the news?” he asked.
Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “Yes. You killed Jess Salceda. Why? She was never part of your plan.”
He didn’t say anything. Even around Eden, he was cautious.
“Do you think I’m recording you?” she asked.
“No, but you have new friends. Your book has a new hero.”
“I hope you don’t think you were ever the hero in my book.”
“Maybe not, but your loyalties are divided now. That worries me. We had an agreement, Eden. If you break the rules, don’t be surprised if your opponent does the same. Jess learned that the hard way.”
“Don’t threaten me, Rudy. It’s not smart.”
“I could say the same thing,” he replied.
Eden shrugged. Her face was a shell that didn’t crack. “If you stay here, if you keep doing this, they’re going to catch you. Or kill you.”
“Well, that should make for an exciting end to your book.”
“You’re right. It will.”
“How’s the book coming, by the way? Are you almost done?”
“You tell me,” she said.
He couldn’t suppress the barest smile at that remark.
“Do you already have a deal with a publisher?” he asked. “I imagine this project will make you a lot of money. Big advance. Book tour. Maybe another movie. I wonder who they’ll get to play me.”
“It’s not about the money,” Eden said.
“Right, it’s about proving yourself as a writer. It’s about getting inside my head. Or is it about getting inside your head, Eden? Honestly, I’ve always wondered about that. Is the book really about me, or are you trying to understand who you are? After all this time, you still can’t come to grips with what happened to you in that basement.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Rudy. Experts have tried and failed.” She crushed her empty coffee cup in her hand. “Enough with the games. Why are you here? Why did you find me?”
“I need your help.”
“Forget it,” Eden snapped. “I’m done with that. It’s over.”