Whump!
"Yes. Yes."
Then a big intake of breath as the woman was allowed to breathe. Giant gulps choked by sobs and unintelligible syllables. Like somebody who's been held under by waves.
"Get your fuckin' clothes on. You 're outta here forever, bitch. Hey, here's a reminder of what you're going to do. "
Whump!
"Shuttup. Shuttup. There, breathe all you want. I'm a nice guy once you get to know me. "
Jack Blazak stormed into the living room wearing nothing but shorts. He pulled a polo shirt over his head and jammed his arms through. Then he stormed back out of the picture.
"No! No!"
Whump.
"Get your clothes on, you scrawny bitch. I can't stand the sight of you."
Blazak came back out, balancing on one foot, the other raised as he worked it into a boat shoe.
Sobbing from the back of the house.
"Stupidest damned woman on earth, and that's saying something. "
He put on the other shoe.
He sat at the small kitchen bar and looked at a Forbes magazine. He touched the back of his neck and looked at his fingers. He glanced toward the woman, then went back to the magazine.
A few minutes later she staggered out. Short black dress, black heels, a small cashmere sweater with mother-of-pearl and sequins woven into it. She was hunched over, wobbling on the shoes. In one hand she clutched thick wad of money. She pulled the sweater against her shoulders like was freezing. Her arms were thin and brown. Her long black hair tangled and covered her face. She reached up and took a handful of her hair and threw it back, revealing her terrified and beautiful face.
Birch froze the frame.
"Luria Bias," I said. "Eighteen years old and pregnant by then. Severely beaten a few hours before she died. It looks to me like she just gave Blazak the news."
"The woman who got run over?" asked Collier.
"It sounds like she was shaking him down for money," said Oude
"Shit, Harmon," said Redd. "If she's eighteen, unmarried and pregnant by number forty-one on the richest assholes in America list, maybe she was just asking for some help."
"Sorry, that's what I meant."
"Jesus, Harmon, he was beating the fetus."
"I know! I give! I was trying to establish motive for the beating. Blazak was trying to get her to have an abortion. She was threatening to keep baby and file a paternity suit."
A moment of silence then, while the ugliness of what we watched settled in.
Birch hit play again. Luria wobbled over to the bar and collected a small black purse. She stuffed the money inside and tried to work a zipper but the bills were in the way. Black hair falling around her face smudge of an old bruise still showing under one eye. Dark legs trembling.
Blazak watched her like she was a waitress doing a lousy job. He fingered the back of his neck again.
"You scratched me. "
"Sorry."
"Get out."
"I'm go."" That'll cover everything. And more. Use it to go back where you from."
"I'm go home."
Luria moved toward the door and the camera. The picture jostled wildly, then went black.
"The lab has a skin sample taken from under Luria's fingernail," I said. "Maybe that scratch is what we'll use to convict him."
"And this tape," Birch said. "And Savannah Blazak's testimony." Again, a moment of silence, as the pieces continued to fall into place. Marchant stood. "Rick, do what you need to do. We're here to help."
"Look, Blazak paid three million dollars to get his daughter and this tape," said Birch. "He needs Savannah silent. He needs this tape destroyed. Now he's got neither. Cheryl, get two more uniforms over to Hillview."
"Will do."
"Harmon, dupe this tape, then dupe it again."
"Got it."
"Collier, get to McCallum when he opens the lab. Explain our situation and tell him I'll have a comparison sample by noon. We'll see if Blazak left his skin under Luria Bias's fingernail."
"I'll be waiting for him," said Collier.
"Joe, it's two in the morning. Go home and get some rest. And congratulations. You just saved a girl from a crazy brother and a father who beats women with his fists. Hillview is where she belongs right now. And be careful. That mutt Jack might want a piece of you."
Birch offered his hand and I shook it. Then the rest of them offered theirs. Even Marchant. Ouderkirk slapped my back.
It was the third proudest moment of my life, after the day that Will and Mary Ann walked into Hillview to see me and the first time June Dauer and I made love. I smiled and turned the bad side of my face away and walked out.
When I got to my car I called June. She answered on the third ring, in a voice that sounded unsurprised and lucid.
"It's over," I said. "She's okay. She's safe. Nobody got shot. I was wondering if I could come over."
"You better come over."
A little before three A.M. I was standing on June Dauer's patio over looking Newport Harbor. The lights twinkled on the water and the smelled of salt and barnacles and nightshade. I knocked and waited, answered the door in the dark and whispered for me to come in.
We started making love at 3:08, 5:22 and 7:12. We ate cereal with whole milk and honey on it at 4:15, and I fried up some eggs, bacon, sausage, and potatoes at 6:30, which I served with waffles, melon orange juice.
June left for work around nine and told me to sleep as long as I wanted.
I woke up at noon. I walked around her apartment with a cup of coffee. The morning haze was burning off and the water of the bay was glassy gray. It felt like another world to me, another universe entirely. No bars. No uniforms. No guns. No creeps.
June Dauer was everywhere I looked: sitting on the sofa, standing in the kitchen, looking out the window, sitting on the patio. I could see dark curls, the beautiful straight lines of her face, her strong tan legs. I could hear the clear, soft whisper of her voice. I wondered what it would be like to inhabit this place. If it could accommodate a big man, a scar, a gun. It was funny, though, because when I imagined myself here I didn't feel like I was those things. I felt different. I felt smaller, lighter, softer. No scar. No gun. I felt like a smile with legs, and a body in between that only wanted to be close to hers. To be home. As if her flesh was a house and I could move in.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I stood outside cell eight in Module J, set the dinner tray in the slot and looked into the bright eyes of Alex Blazak. It was four in the afternoon and Sergeant Delano had agreed to let me serve Alex his in-cell dinner. Tonight was meat loaf, mashed potatoes, vegetables and milk.
"Acid Baby."
"My name is Joe Trona."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Will's son. Too bad what happened. He shouldn't have gotten himself mixed up with the heavyweights."
"Who set him up for Gaylen?"
"Get me out of here and I'll tell you."
"Only the DA can do that."
"He'll spring me, when he talks to Savannah and finds out there was no kidnapping. That was Dad's story."
"There's the blackmail."
Alex smiled, jumped off his bed and walked up to the bars. He looked down at the steaming tray and took it.
"Hey, I didn't beat that lady half to death. He did."
"Who hired Gaylen?"
He sat on the bed with the tray on his knees. "Don't ask me. Ask Dad. That was all at his end."
"But you knew something was going to happen. You'd talked with Gaylen. That's why you left Savannah on her own at Lind Street. Sacrifice her, after you'd gotten your money. That's why you had a fallback plan to meet her at Beach and Lincoln."
"Pure instinct. If you grew up with Jack as a father, you'd have it, too. ''How do you shave that thing?"
"What I wonder is, since you got an extra half million, maybe it was for you to help set up Will. You were dealing through him, but around him, too. With someone who wanted him dead."
Blazak colore
d slightly, looked down at his food. "These vegetable fresh?"
"Frozen. Your face just went pink."
He looked up at me. More color. "Don't talk to me about faces."
I stared at him and said nothing.
"You give me the creeps," he said.
I kept staring. Blazak turned away from me and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing the rear wall.
I let myself in with the cell key Sergeant Delano had given me. Alex was just turning around to look when I asked him for his tray. He handed it to me and I set it on the floor. Then I picked him up by his neck, cranked him to face me, and pinned him to the far wall by his throat. He kicked, then stood on his tiptoes. I could feel his life pulsing urgently beneath my hands.
"Who set him up?"
I lowered him, keeping my grip on his neck.
He sucked some air, eyes wide.
"Want to dangle some more?" I asked.
He coughed and sputtered and coughed again.
"It was just Gaylen," he rasped. "I'd done business with some friend of his. Months ago. So he knew how to find me. He told me what he needed for the exchange—a place without lots of witnesses, after dark, somewhere they could get in and out of by car. He said there was another three grand in it for me. I figured I'd make some beer money. I didn't know about any setup. Something just told me to get the hell out of there. He still owes me the money. God, my neck."
"Friends of Gaylen? Who?"
"Pearlita and Felix Escobar."
"And you agreed to do what he said?"
"Well, yeah. Money's money, right? But I didn't know anything about why. I didn't know he was going to take out your father. Or try to get Savannah. If I'd have been there, he'd have probably stepped on me, too. But it was Gaylen. He came to me, man. I don't know how the hell he found out what was going on. He just showed up at my warehouse."
"You were supposed to be at Lind Street for the pickup, weren't you?"
"That's what they all assumed. My dad and yours."
Hands still on his neck, I guided him back to his bed and sat him down. I picked up the dinner tray and handed it to him.
"Eat your vegetables."
"All right."
"You're almost twenty-two years old. You should have known better than to risk your sister like that. Just turn her out there on her own? She came close to getting shot. What's wrong with you?"
"She's a survivor."
"You're a coward. All your guns and weapons, but you're a coward."
"Hey, I just needed the money. My dad's the forty-first richest man in America. I got used to certain things."
He looked at me sullenly, rubbing his neck.
Rick Birch and I interviewed Savannah late that afternoon. The doctor told us she'd slept most of the day, and awakened disoriented and depressed.
The three of us sat at a small table in the Hillview Library. I suggested that place, thinking that Savannah would feel comfortable there. I told her the story about Will and Shag: Last of the Plains Buffalo. She was very interested in it. Wanted to know if I remembered what page I was on when he sat down. I did: page thirty, where Shag is fighting for control of the herd. The table was the same one I'd been sitting at on that fateful day. I knew because there was a faint X carved into the top by some creative Hillview student. Will had fingered it while he talked to me. The X v still there, dulled by the years but visible.
We tape-recorded the whole story. It went on for almost an hour. Savannah spoke quickly and covered large amounts of time and action with just a few words. We let her tell the whole thing before we went back and started asking questions.
"When did you decide to take the tape and run away to Alex?"
"When I saw the woman's face in the paper. And that she had been run over and died. "
"Did she ever work for your family?"
"Yes. She cleaned our house a few times. I remembered her because she was very pretty and very quiet, with a smile like a big light. I asked how she got her hair so shiny and she said she would rinse it in beer.'
"Who thought of charging your father money in order to get the tap
"Alex. He always wants money. "
"Did you think that was a good idea?"
"No. But I was afraid to take the tape to the police, because of what Dad would do to me. Alex said if we got lots of money from Dad, we could give some to the maid's family. "
"When Alex first asked for the money, who was he calling on the phone about how much, and when, and where?"
"First Dad. Then someone named Bo. Then Will. "
"Where and when, exactly, did you meet Will Trona?"
"At Laguna Beach. I can't remember exactly, but I think it was one or two nights before he got murdered. "
"After that, did Alex call Will about making the arrangements?"
"He called Will. But he talked to a lot of other people, too. About money, and places, and who would be there and where we would be.
"What other people?"
"One called Daniel, which I think is Reverend Alter. One called One called Pearl. And a woman named. . . Donna? Renee? Something like that."
I made a note of that name: Donna or Renee—a new face in the game
"Did you know that Alex was telling your father that he would return you to him?"
"Yes. But Alex was lying. We were going to take the money and buy a little house by the beach to live in. "
"Did you know how much money Alex asked for, at first?"
"Five hundred thousand dollars. "
"Did you know he raised the price?"
"That was Will's idea. "
"Did Will know about the tape?"
"Alex played it for him. And Will said to double the amount of money. And Will said Alex should collect the money, and turn me and the tape over to him."
"What did you think of going with Will?"
"I liked Will. I could trust him. He said he'd take me to Child Protective Services and I wouldn't have to worry about what my father might do. He said there was no reason to give the tape to either Dad or the police. He said he'd work things out so that everyone would be happy again. "
I thought what a perfect opportunity Will had had to blackmail Blazak. What fat concessions he could get from Blazak, simply with the threat of taking that tape to the authorities.
"Can you tell us where you went, you and Alex, after the night when Will was killed?"
"I can't remember the order. But we went to Big Bear, Lake Arrowhead, La Jolla, Imperial Beach, Julian, Hollywood, Santa Monica, Santa Barbara, San Francisco. And Mendocino, Reno, Las Vegas, Bullthorn City, Yuma, Palm Springs and Mexico City. And Zihautanejo and Tucson and some other places."
"A new place every night?"
"We stayed two in Las Vegas so Alex could gamble and see a fight. And four in Mexico City because we were tired. The rest were one night. "
"You drove to all these places?"
"All except Mexico City and Zihuatanejo. We flew out of Tijuana for those. Alex's Porsche is very fast. "
"Did Alex ever hurt you?"
Savannah looked at me with an expression of surprise. "Hurt me? He did everything he could to protect me and make me happy. I got sick Mexico City and he stayed up with me all night, putting washcloths on forehead. He had room service bring me tortilla soup and bottled water. He's the best big brother a girl could ever have. "
I made a note of that. I thought about innocence and trust and fear and being eleven years old.
I also thought of Savannah the Spy.
"Savannah, did you play Savannah the Spy when you and Alex were running?"
"Yes, of course. I used up two whole tapes. I shot us everywhere, do our secret things. Alex thought it was funny. "
"Where are those tapes now?"
"In my backpack with my camcorder. Want to watch them? "
"Yes. We'd like that very much."
One of the Hillview staff was kind enough to roll a TV/VCR into library. For the next two hours we watched Alex and Savan
nah Blazak zooming across the west in his shiny black Porsche, splashing in the blue bay of Zihuatanejo, checking into their suites, having food fights with room service hamburgers, watching out windows for anyone coming after them, hastily packing and hitting the road while Alex muttered paranoid conspiracy theories and Savannah narrated. There was tape of Alex throwing his million in cash around a suite at the Venetian in Las Vegas. Tape of grim border at Tijuana, the vendors selling purple Buddha coin banks, Star Wars figurines wearing sombreros, shellacked sand sharks on strings, boxes painted bright pinks and yellows and blues. Tape of the beautiful violent Mendocino coast; of the Golden Gate Bridge; the hills of Santa Barbara; the cotton fields in Yuma; the bighorn sheep outside the Ritz Carlton in Palm Desert; the dreamy mountains around Tucson.
"Why did Alex call me?" I asked. "What made you want to try another deal with your father?"
"Alex wanted more money. And to be honest, Joe, I was tired of running. It was nice, but I do have to start sixth grade in a few months. I'll be in accelerated math and English."
"Why did you choose me? Why not call your father directly?"
"Oh, no, Joe. I trust you. That's why I sent you those postcards. I needed to say something to somebody, but I couldn't worry my mother with things like that. She's very fragile. So I picked you. And Alex trusted your father. You can never deal with Dad directly, because he's such a good businessman. He'll always get a better deal than you, even if it sounds like he's not."
I thought about Jack Blazak and his temper, his duplicity and his power.
"What about your mother, Savannah? Do you trust her?"
She looked at me, then at Rick Birch. Then away. She sighed. "She always agrees with him. Even when she knows he's wrong. It's one of his laws, that she always has to agree with him."
I wondered if Jack had ever done to Lorna what he'd done to Luria Bias.
"Did your father ever hit your mother?"
Savannah was still looking out one of the Library windows.
"I never saw him do that. Mom spends lots of days in bed. I'm not sure why, but it usually happens after they fight. They fight very loud, with bad language. Usually that happens when Mom drinks a lot."
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