by Robert Crais
"How was he?"
"Furious, accusatory, frightened, belligerent-nothing I didn't expect. He's Richard."
Losing her son wasn't bad enough, so now she had this. Richard hadn't wanted Lucy to move to Los Angeles, and he had never liked me; they fought often about it, and now they would fight even more. I guess she was calling for the moral support.
She said, "He's supposed to call from the plane with his flight information, but I don't know. Jesus, he was such an asshole."
"You want me to come by tomorrow after Starkey leaves? I can do that."
Richard could shout at me instead of her.
"I don't know. Maybe. I'd better get off the line." "We can talk as long as you want."
"No, now I'm worried that man will try to call you again about Ben. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
The phone rang a second time almost as soon as I put it down. The second time, I didn't jump, but I let it ring twice, taking the time to ready myself.
Starkey said, "This is Detective Starkey. I hope I didn't wake you."
"Sleep isn't an option, Starkey. I thought you were him." "Sorry. He hasn't called again, has he?" "Not yet. It's late; I didn't think you'd still be on the job." "I waited to hear from the phone company. They show you received a call at six fifty-two this evening. Does that time out about right?" "Yeah, that's when he called." "Okay, the call was made from a cell number registered to a Louise Escalante in Diamond Bar." "I don't know her." "I figured you wouldn't. She says her purse was stolen this afternoon, along with her phone. She says she doesn't know you or anything about this, and her billing records support that the call to you was out of her pattern of use. I'm sorry, but I think she's a dead end." "Did you think about calling the number?" Her voice cooled. "Yes, Mr. Cole, I did. I've dialed it five times. They've turned off the phone." Stealing a phone meant the man who took Ben had criminal experience. He had anticipated the line trace, which meant he had planned his action. Smart crooks are harder to catch than stupid crooks. They are also more dangerous. "Mr. Cole?" "I'm here. I was thinking." "You getting those names together for me?" "I'm doing that now, but I'm thinking about another possibility, too. I've had run-ins with people, Starkey, doing what I do. I've helped put some people in jail or out of business, and they're the kind of people who would hold a grudge. If I make a list, would you be willing to run their names, too?" "Sure. Not a problem."
"Thanks. I appreciate this."
"I'll see you in the morning. Try to get some sleep." "Like that could happen."
The darkest part of the night stretched through the hours, but little by little the eastern sky lightened. I barely noticed. By the time Starkey arrived, I had filled twelve legal-sized pages with names and notes. It was six forty-two when I answered the door. She was early.
Starkey held up a cardboard tray with two cups from Starbucks.
"I hope you like mocha. This is how I get my chocolate fix."
"That's nice of you, Starkey. Thanks."
She passed one of the cups to me. Morning light filled the canyon with a soft glow. She seemed to consider it, then glanced at the Game Freak. It was on the dining table with the pages.
"How far down the hill did you find the toy?"
"Fifty, sixty yards, something like that. You want to get going down there now?"
"The sun as low as it is, we'll have indirect light. That's not good. When the sun is higher, we'll get direct light. It'll be easier to see small objects and reconstruct what happened."
"You sound like you know what you're talking about."
"I've worked a few scenes."
She brought her coffee to the table.
"Let's see what you have with the names. Show me the most likely candidates first."
I showed her the list of people from my civilian cases first. The more I had thought about it, the more it seemed likely that one of them was behind what had happened to
Ben. We sipped the coffee as we went through their names. Beside each name I had written down the crimes they had committed, whether or not they had been sentenced to prison, and whether or not I had killed anyone close to them.
Starkey said, "Jesus, Cole, it's all gangbangers, mobsters, and murderers. I thought you private guys did
nothing but knock down divorce work."
"I pick the wrong cases."
"No shit. You have reason to believe that any of these people are familiar with your military history?"
"So far as I know, none of them know anything about me, but I guess they could find out."
"All right. I'll run them through the system to see if anyone's been released. Now let's talk about these other four men, the guys who died. Could their families blame you for what happened?"
"I didn't do anything for anyone to blame me."
"You know what I mean. Because their kid died and you didn't."
"I know what you meant and I'm telling you no. I wrote to their parents after it happened. Luis Rodriguez's mother and I corresponded until she died. That was six years ago. Teddy Fields's family sends me Christmas cards. When I mustered out, I went to see the Johnsons and Ted's family. Everyone was upset, sure, but no one blamed me. It was mostly just sad."
Starkey watched me as if she was convinced there had to be more, but she couldn't imagine what. I stared back at her, and once more thought she looked familiar.
I said, "Have we met? You looked familiar last night and now you look familiar again, but I can't place you."
Starkey glanced away. She took a foil packet from her
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jacket and swallowed a white tablet with the coffee. "Can I smoke in here." "You can smoke on the deck. You sure we haven't met." "Positive." "You look like someone." Starkey studied the deck longingly, then sighed. "Okay, Cole, here's how you know me: Recent current events for a thousand. The answer is: Kaboom." I didn't know what she meant. Starkey spread her hands like I was stupid. "Don't you watch leopardy? Bombs. Bombers. The Bomb Squad lost a tech in Silver Lake a couple of months ago." "That was you. " "I gotta have a smoke. This is killing me." Starkey pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jacket and broke for the deck. I followed her. Carol Starkey had bagged a serial cop-killer who murdered bomb technicians. Mr. Red had been headline news in L.A., but most of the stories were about Starkey. Three years before Mr. Red, Starkey herself had been a bomb tech. She had been trying to de-arm a bomb in a trailer park when an earthquake triggered the initiator. Both Starkey and her partner had been killed, but Starkey was resuscitated at the scene. She had literally risen from the dead, which had yoked her with lurid nicknames like the Angel of Death and Demolition Angel. Maybe she read what I was thinking. She shook her head as she fired up the cigarette, scowling at me. "Don't even dream about asking, Cole. Don't ask if I saw white lights or pearly gates. I get that out the ass." "I don't care about that, and I wasn't going to ask. All I care about is finding Ben." "Good. That's all I care about, too. The bomb squad stuff, that's behind me. Now I do this."
"I'm happy for you, Starkey, but the bomb squad stuff was only a couple of months ago. Do you know anything about finding a missing boy?"
Starkey blew a geyser of smoke, angry.
"What are you asking, if I'm up to the job?"
I was angry, too. I had been angry since last night and I was getting more angry by the second.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm asking."
"I reconstructed bombs and bomb scenes, and traced explosives through the most perverted landscape you can imagine. I made cases against the assholes who built bombs and the dickwads who trade the components those assholes use. And I nailed Mr. Red. So you don't have to worry about it, Cole. I know how to detect, and you can bet your private-eye ass that I'm going to find this boy."
The sun was high now. The slope was bright. Starkey snapped her cigarette over the rail. I looked to see where it hit.
"Hey, we have a fire hazard up here."
Starkey faced me like the mountain was already an inferno and couldn't get an
y worse.
"We got plenty of light. Show me where you found the toy."
time missing: i hours, 3 minutes
Starkey changed shoes outside at her car, then met me on the side of my house wearing a pair of beat-up Asics cross-trainers with her pants rolled to her knees. Her calves were white. She stared warily down at the slope.
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9
"It's steep."
"Are you scared of heights?"
"Jesus, Cole, I was just saying. The soil here is loose, I see a lot of irregular ground cover, and you've already been tramping around down there. That's going to make it harder. I want you to be careful not to contaminate the scene any more than you already have, which means all you're gonna do is show me where you found the Game Freak, then get the hell out of my way. We clear?"
"Look, maybe I was out of line. I'm good at this, too, Starkey. I can help."
"That remains to be seen. Show me."
When I stepped over the edge, she followed, but she looked awkward and uncomfortable.
Ben played on the hill so much that he had worn narrow paths that flowed with the rise and fall of the earth like trickling water. I led Starkey down the slope by following alongside the paths so that we wouldn't disturb his footprints. The ground was rugged and unbroken where I walked, and I noticed that Starkey was using the path.
"You're walking on his footprints. Walk where I walk."
She stared down at her feet.
"All I see is dirt."
"Just walk where I walk. Come over by me."
Ben's trail was easy to follow until we reached the base of the trees, then the soil grew rocky. It didn't matter; I knew the way from yesterday. We cut across the slope. Starkey slipped twice and cursed both times.
"Put your feet where you see me putting mine. We're almost there."
"I hate the outdoors."
"I can tell."
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I pointed out the patch of rosemary where I had found the Game Freak and several of Ben's footprints. Starkey squatted in place as if she was trying to memorize every rock and spike of rosemary. After all the slipping and
cursing, she was careful at the scene.
She glanced at my feet.
"You wearing those shoes yesterday?"
"Yeah. New Balance. You can see the prints I left yesterday."
I pointed my prints out to her, then lifted a foot so that she could see the sole of my shoe. The soles were cut with a pattern of raised triangles and a large N in each heel. The triangles and N were obvious in some of my prints. Starkey studied the pattern, then a couple of my footprints, then frowned at me.
"Okay, Cole, I know what I said when we were up at your house, but I'm more your city-type person, you know? My idea of the outdoors is a parking lot. You seem to know what you're doing down here, so I'm going to let
you help. Just don't fuck up anything, okay?"
"I'll try not to."
"We just wanna figure out what happened. After that, we'll bring in SID."
Criminalists from LAPD's Scientific Investigation Division would be responsible for identifying and securing any evidence of the crime.
Starkey divided the area into a rough grid of squares which we searched one square at a time. She moved slowly because of the poor footing, but she was methodical and good with the scene. Two of Ben's prints suggested that he had turned around to return to my house, but the impressions were jumbled and could have meant anything; then his prints headed downhill.
She said, "Where are you going?"
6I
"I'm following Ben's trail."
"Jesus, I can barely see the scuffs. You a hunter, or what ?"
"I used to do this." "When you were a kid?" "In the Army."
Starkey glanced at me as if she wasn't sure what that meant.
Ben's footprints led through the grass for another eight feet, but then I lost his trail. I went back to his last print, then spiraled out in an expanding circle, but found no more prints or any other sign of his passing. It was as if he
had sprouted wings and jumped into the air.
Starkey said, "What do you see?"
"If someone grabbed Ben, we should see signs of a struggle or at least the other person's footprints, but I don't see anything."
"You're just missing it, Cole."
"There's nothing to miss. Ben's prints just stop, and the soil here bears none of the scuffs and jumbled prints that you'd expect to find if he struggled."
Starkey crept downhill, concentrating on the ground. She didn't answer for a few minutes, but then her voice was quiet.
"Maybe Gittamon was right about him being involved. Maybe you can't find a struggle because he ran away."
"He didn't run away."
"If he wasn't snatched, then--"
"Look at his prints--they come this far and then they stop. He didn't go back uphill, he didn't go downhill or sidehill; they just stop. He didn't just vanish. If Ben ran away, he would have left prints, but he didn't; he didn't walk away from this point. Someone carried him."
"Then where are the other person's prints?" I stared at the ground, shaking my head. "I don't know."
"That's stupid, Cole. We'll find something. Keep looking."
Starkey paralleled my move downhill. She was three or four yards to my side when she stopped to study the ground.
"Hey, is this the boy's shoe or yours?"
I went to see. A faint line marked the heel of a shoe that was too large to be Ben's. The impression was crisp without being weathered, and was free of debris. I compared the crispness of its edge with the edges that marked Ben's shoe prints. They had been made at about the same time. I got behind the print and sighted forward through the center of the heel to see which way the print was headed. It pointed
directly to the place where Ben's trail ended.
"It's him, Starkey. You got him."
"We can't know that. One of your neighbors could have been dicking around up here."
"No one was dicking around. Keep looking."
Starkey pushed a stalk of rosemary.into the soil to mark the print's location, and then we widened our circle. I searched the ground between the new print and Ben's, but found nothing more. I worked back in the opposite direction covering the same ground a second time, but still found nothing. Fragments of additional shoe prints should have been salted through Ben's like the overlapping pieces of a puzzle. I should have found scuffs, crushed grass, and the obvious evidence of another human moving across the earth, but all we had was the partial heel print of a single shoe. That couldn't be, but it was, and the more I thought about the lack of evidence, the more frightened I became. Evidence was
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the physical history of an event, but the absence of a physical history was its own kind of evidence.
I considered the surrounding brush and the flow of the slope, and the trees that surrounded us with their dead winter leaves spread over the ground. A man had worked his way uphill through heavy brush and brittle leaves so quietly that Ben did not hear him approaching. The man would not have been able to see him through the thick brush, which meant that he had located Ben by the sound of the Game Freak. Then, when he found him, he took a healthy ten-year-old boy so quickly that Ben had no chance to call out.
I said, "Starkey."
"There's bugs down here, Cole. I fuckin' hate bugs." She was examining the ground a few feet away.
"Starkey, forget the names I gave you from my old
cases. None of those people are good enough to do this." She misunderstood.
"Don't worry about it, Cole. I'll have SID come out. They'll be able to tell what happened."
"I already know what happened. Forget the names from my case files. Just run the people who served with me, and forget everything else."
"I thought you said none of those guys would do it."
I stared at the ground, then at the thick brush and broken land, thinking hard about the people I had known and what the
best of them could do. The skin on my back prickled. The leaves and branches that surrounded us became the broken pieces of an indistinct puzzle. A man with the right skills could be ten feet away. He could hide within the puzzle and watch us between the pieces and we would never see him even as his finger tightened over a trigger. I lowered my voice without realizing it.
"The man who did this has combat experience,
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Starkey. You're not seeing it, but I can see it. He's done this before. He was trained to hunt humans and he's good at it."
"You're creeping me out. Take a breath with that, okay? I'll have $ID come out."
I glanced at my watch. Ben had been missing for
sixteen hours and twelve minutes.
"Is Gittamon with Lucy?"
"Yeah, he's searching Ben's room."
"I'm going to see them. I want to tell them what we're dealing with."
"Look, Cole, don't get spooky with all this. We don't know what we're dealing with, so why don't you wait until SID gets here?"
"Can you find your way back?"
"If you wait two minutes I'll go with you."
I walked back up the hill without waiting. Starkey trailed after me, and called out from time to time for me to slow down, but I never slowed enough for her to catch up. Shadows from a past that should have been buried lined the path back up to my house. The shadows outnumbered me, and I knew I would need help with them. When I reached my house, I went into the kitchen and
phoned a gun shop I know in Culver City. "Let me have Joe." "He isn't here."
"It's important you find him. Tell him to meet me at
Lucy's right away. Tell him that Ben Chenier is missing." "Okay. Anything else?" "Tell him I'm scared."
I hung up and went out to my car. I started the engine, but sat with my hands on the steering wheel, trying to stop their shaking.
The man who took Ben had moved well and with
silence. He had studied when we came and when we left. He knew my home and canyon, and how Ben went down the slope to play, and he had done it all so well that I did not notice. He had probably stalked us for days. It took special training and skills to hunt humans. I had known men with those skills, and they scared me. I had been one of them. CHAPTER 6