Robert Crais - Suspect

“Okay, man, thanks. I’ll pass it along.”

Scott was ending the call when Budress stopped him.

“Hey, I forgot. Leland told me he likes the way you’re working with Maggie. He thinks we’re making progress with her startle response.”

“Great.”

Scott didn’t want to talk about Leland.

“Don’t tell him I told you, okay?”

“Never.”

Scott hung up, and fingered the band through the bag.

He’s following in his brother’s footsteps.

Daryl lived in his brother’s house, so Daryl’s scent was in the house. Maggie alerted on Daryl and on the band. Could the watch have been Daryl’s?

Scott touched Maggie’s nose. She licked his fingers.

“No effin’ way.”

Maybe both brothers robbed Shin’s store. Maybe Daryl was his brother’s lookout, up on the roof to watch for the police. Maybe Daryl was the witness, and not Marshall.

Scott studied the shabby brown piece of leather in the plastic evidence bag.

Scott put the bag aside, and thought about Daryl as he petted his dog.

Scott woke the next morning, feeling anxious and agitated. He had dreamed about Marshall and Daryl. In the dream, they stood calmly in the street as the shooting unfolded around them. In the dream, Marshall told Orso and Cowly the five men removed their masks after the shooting, and called each other by name. In the dream, Marshall knew their names and addresses, and had close-up photos of each man on his cell phone. Scott just wanted to know if the man had been there.

He took Maggie out, then showered, and ate cereal at the kitchen sink. He brooded over whether to tell Cowly and Orso about the watchband. He decided they already thought he was crazy enough. He didn’t want to make things worse by floating a theory based on a dog.

At six-thirty, he was fed up with waiting, and phoned Cowly on her cell.

“Hey, Joyce, it’s Scott James. Okay if I pick up the discs?”

“You know it’s only six-thirty?”

“I didn’t mean now. Whenever you say.”

She was silent for a moment, and Scott worried she was still in bed.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“I just finished a five-mile run. Let me think. Can you roll by about eleven?”

“Eleven would be great. Ah, listen, what’s happening with Ishi? Did he see anything?”

“As of last night, he wasn’t talking. He’s got a pretty good P.D. Orso has a D.A. coming down, first thing. They’re trying to work out a deal.”

Scott reconsidered whether to mention Daryl, but again decided against it.

“Okay, I’ll see you around eleven.”

Scott worked with Maggie at the training facility from seven-fifteen until ten-thirty, then left her and rolled for the Boat. Her confused expression when he closed her run filled him with guilt. He felt even worse when she barked as he walked away. Her steady bark-bark-bark plea hurt so badly he clenched his eyes. He walked faster when he realized he had heard it before.

Scotty, don’t leave me.

The Trans Am felt empty without Maggie beside him. Maggie cut the car in half like a black-and-tan wall when she straddled the console, but now the car felt strange. This was only the second time he had been alone in the car since he brought Maggie home. They were together twenty-four hours a day. They ate together, played together, trained together, and lived together. Having Maggie was like having a three-year-old, only better. When he told her to sit, she sat. Scott glanced at the empty console, and hoped she wasn’t still barking.

He pushed on the gas, then realized, here he was, a grown man, a cop, and he was speeding because he was worried his dog was lonely. He laughed at himself.

“Relax, moron. You’re all spooled up like she was a human being. She’s a dog.”

He pushed the gas harder.

“You’re talking to yourself way too much. This can’t be right.”

Scott parked at the Boat twelve minutes later, went up to the fifth floor, and was surprised when he found Orso waiting with Cowly. She held out a manila envelope.

“You can keep them. I burned copies.”

Scott felt the discs shift when he took the envelope, but only managed a nod. Orso looked like a funeral director.

“You have a few minutes? Could we see you inside?”

A bitter heat filled Scott’s belly.

“Was it Ishi? He was there?”

“Let’s talk inside. I’m sorry you didn’t bring Maggie. It was fun having her here.”

Scott heard only mumbles. He was preparing to relive the shooting through Marshall Ishi’s eyes, even as he disappeared in his own nightmare. The Bentley rolling over, the big man raising his rifle, Stephanie reaching out with red hands. Scott was vaguely aware Orso expected a response, but walked on in silence.

None of them spoke again until they were seated in the conference room, and Orso explained.

“Mr. Ishi confessed this morning. He remembered three of the items he stole that night—a set of carved ivory pipes.”

Cowly said, “Not ivory. Rhinoceros horn. Inlaid with tiger teeth. Illegal in the United States.”

“Whatever. The pipes were among the things Mr. Shin listed stolen.”

Scott didn’t care what was stolen.

“Did he see the shooters?”

Orso shifted as if he was uncomfortable. His face softened and turned sad.

“No. I’m sorry, Scott. No. He can’t help us.”

Cowly leaned forward.

“He broke into Shin’s almost three hours before the hit. He was back home and loaded by the time you rolled up.”

Scott looked from Cowly to Orso.

“That’s it?”

“We took our shot. It looked really good, here’s this burglary fifty feet from the shooting, on the same night, what are the odds? But he didn’t see it. He can’t help us.”

“He’s lying. He saw these guys murder a police officer and two other people. A fucking asshole with a machine gun.”

Cowly said, “Scott—”

“He’s scared they’ll kill him.”

Orso shook his head.

“He’s telling the truth.”

“A meth-addict? A drug-dealing burglar?”

“Between witness testimony and evidence, we had the man cold on nine separate felony and misdemeanor charges. He already has a felony strike, so two more would put him over the three strike mandatory.”

“That doesn’t mean he told the truth. It means he was scared.”

Orso kept going.

“He confessed to four burglaries including Shin’s. Everything he told us about time, place, how he got in, what he stole, all the details—everything checked. His statements about the Shin burglary—checked. He was required to take a polygraph. He passed. When we asked him what time he broke into Shin’s, and what time he left, and what he saw, he passed.”

Orso leaned back and laced his fingers.

“We believe him, Scott. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t see anything. He can’t help us.”

Scott felt as if he had lost something. He thought he should ask more questions, but nothing occurred to him, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Did you release him?”

Orso looked surprised.

“Ishi? God, no. He’s in Men’s Central Jail until the sentencing. He’s going to prison.”

“What about the girl and the roommates?”

“Flipped like three burgers. They helped with our leverage, so we let them walk.”

Scott nodded.

“Okay. So now what?”

Orso touched his hair.

“White hair. Ian has sources. Maybe one of them knows of a driver with white hair.”

Scott looked at Cowly. She was staring at the table as if she was about to nod out. Scott felt the urge to ask her about the man on the beach, and wondered again if he should mention the watchband.

Cowly suddenly straightened as if she felt his stare, and looked at him.