Robert Crais - L.A. Requiem

Watts didn't answer.

“I want you to be there when they look at him. If they give him a pass, bring him over to Parker for the booking. I'll take care of it myself when I get back.”

Watts didn't answer again; he just kept staring at me with the blank look.

Krantz walked away to talk to the press.

When Krantz was gone, Watts said, “I spent the whole ride out trying to figure out whether to blame you for Dolan.”

“I've been doing some of that myself.”

“Yeah, I imagine you would. But I know Dolan more than ten years, and I know what she was like. When she was hit, I saw how you went in. You didn't know what was in there, but you went right in. I saw how you covered her with your jacket.”

He stood there for a time like he didn't know what else to say, then put out his hand. I gave him my left, and we shook.

I said, “Any word on Pike?”

“Not yet. Krantz said he was hit pretty bad.”

“Yeah. Bad. You guys finish going through Sobek's garage?”

“Most of it. SID's there now.”

“You see anything that clears Pike?”

Watts shook his head. “No.”

I considered the Percocet script, wondering if it could take away this kind of hurt.

Watts said, “C'mon, I'll take you back.”

“Krantz called a radio car.”

“Screw the radio car. You can ride with me.”

We didn't say ten words between Palm Springs and L.A. until we were approaching the exit for the County-USC Medical Center, where Krantz had ordered him to bring me.

“Where's your car?”

“Dolan's.”

“You drive with that arm?”

“I can drive.”

He continued past the County-USC exit without a word and brought me to Dolan's. We pulled into her drive, and sat there, staring at the house. Someone would have to go back to Sobek's garage for her Beemer. Someone would have to bring it home.

“I'm not going to book you tonight, but you gotta come in tomorrow.”

“Krantz will be pissed.”

“You let me worry about Krantz. You gonna come in or am I gonna have to go look for you?”

“I'll come in.”

He shrugged like he hadn't expected anything else, and said, “I'll bet she's got a pretty good bottle of tequila in there. How about we tip one for her?”

“Sure.”

Dolan kept a spare house key beneath a clay pot in her backyard. I didn't ask Watts how he knew. When we got inside, Watts knew where she kept the tequila, too.

Her house was as quiet as any house could be, as if something had vanished from her home when she died. Maybe it had. We sat and drank, and after a while Stan Watts went back into her bedroom. He stayed there for a long time, then came out with a small onyx box, and sat with the box in his lap, and drinking. When he'd had enough to drink, he opened the box and took out a small blue heart. He slipped the heart into his jacket pocket, then put his face in his hands and cried like a baby.

I sat with him for almost an hour. I didn't ask him about the heart or the box, but I cried with and for him, and for Dolan, too. And for Pike, and me, because my life was falling apart.

The human heart is worth crying for, even if it's made of onyx.

After a while I used Dolan's phone to check my messages. Joe hadn't called, and neither had Lucy. The news of Laurence Sobek's identification and the events in Palm Springs had broken, and I hoped she would've called, but there you go.

I thought that I should call her, but didn't. I don't know why. I could shoot it out with Laurence Sobek, but calling the woman I loved seemed beyond me.

Instead, I went into Dolan's kitchen for the photograph she'd taken of me at Forest Lawn. I stared at it for a long time, and then I took it. It was right there on the refrigerator, but I hoped that Watts hadn't seen it. I wanted it to be between me and Samantha, and I didn't want it between Watts and her.

I went back into the living room and told Watts that I had to leave, but he didn't hear me, or, if he heard, didn't think I was worth answering. He was someplace deep within himself, or maybe in that little blue heart. In a way, I guess he was with Dolan.

I left him like that, got my prescription filled, then drove home, wishing I had a little blue heart of my own. A secret heart where, if I looked real hard, I could find the people who were dear to me.

My home felt large and hollow that evening. I phoned the guys who work for Joe, but they hadn't heard from him, and were upset by the news. I paced around the house, working up my nut to call Lucy, but thinking of Samantha Dolan. I kept seeing her earlier that morning, telling me she was going to stay after me, that she always got what she wanted, and that she was going to make me love her. Now she was dead and I would never be able to tell her that she already had.

My shoulder throbbed with a fierceness I didn't think possible. I took some of the Percocet, washed my hands and face, then called Lucy. Even dialing the phone hurt.

Ben answered on the third ring, lowering his voice when he realized it was me.

“Mom's mad.”

“I know. Will she speak to me?”

“You sure you want to?”

“I'm sure.”

I waited for her to come to the phone, thinking about what I would say and how I would say it. When Lucy picked up, her voice was more distant than I'd hoped.

She said, “I guess you were right.”

“You heard about Joe?”

“Lieutenant Krantz called. He told me that Joe left the scene wounded.”

“That's right. I took away Krantz's gun so that Joe could leave. Officially, I'm under arrest. I have to go down to Parker Center tomorrow and turn myself in.”

“They call that aiding and abetting.”

I felt slow and stupid and sick to my stomach. My entire right side hurt.

“That's right, Lucy. I took Krantz's gun. I interfered. I committed a felony, and when I'm convicted I'll lose my license, and that's that. I'll get a job as a rent-a-cop, or maybe I can re-up with the Army. Be all I can be.”

Her voice softened. “Were you going to tell me that you were shot?”

“Krantz tell you that?”

“Oh, Elvis.”

Sounding tired, she hung up.

I stood at the phone for a time, thinking that I should call her back, but I didn't.

Eventually, the cat came home, sniffing hopefully when he eased into the kitchen. I opened a can of Bumble Bee tuna, and sat with him on the floor. The Bumble Bee is his favorite. He lapped at it twice, then came to sniff my shoulder.

He licked at the bandages, and I let him. There isn't so much love in the world that you can turn it away when it's offered.

The next morning, Charlie brought me to Parker Center, where Krantz and Stan Watts walked me through the booking process. Neither Krantz nor Watts mentioned that I had spent the night at home. Maybe they had worked it out between them.

I was arraigned that afternoon, a trial date was set in Superior Court, and I was released without bail. I wasn't really thinking about the proceedings; I was thinking about Joe.

Paulette Renfro and Evelyn Wozniak drove in from Palm Springs for the arraignment. After, they sat with Charlie and me to discuss what had occurred between me and Krantz. Paulette and Evelyn both offered to lie on my behalf, but I declined. I wanted them to tell the truth. Charlie listened to their version of events, which matched with mine. When they were done, Charlie leaned back and said, “You're fucked.”

“That's what I like about you, Charlie. You're inspirational.”

“You want my legal advice, take them up on their offer to lie. We can cook up a good story, then it's the three of you against Krantz in court, and you'll skate.”

“Charlie, I don't want to play it that way.”