Robert Crais - The sentry

Cole stopped in the downstairs guest bedroom on his way out. A few of her things were there, but now he wondered if she really used the room or if it was just for show. An empty stick of Dry Idea antiperspirant deodorant was on the dresser. He added it to the bag, then locked the house and gate as he left.

Cole returned to his car, but did not start the engine. He called a friend named John Chen, who was a criminalist with the LAPD's Scientific Investigations Division.

"John? I need you to check some prints. I need it done fast."

"Dude. I'm at a drive-by in Hawaiian Gardens. I've been here all frakkin' night."

"I need this, John. It's for Joe."

Chen hesitated, which told Cole he would agree.

"Okay. Okay, for sure."

"I can bring the samples to you. Where in Hawaiian Gardens?"

"Uh-uh, bro, way too many witnesses here. Meet me downtown in an hour. Make it an hour ten. Outside CCB."

Cole closed his phone and headed for downtown Los Angeles.

Elvis Cole

As an employee of the Los Angeles Police Department, John Chen, like the department's sworn officers, was forbidden to perform unauthorized case work, use city resources for personal gain, or help civilian private investigators off the books. These were good and valid rules to preserve the integrity of case evidence, enforce a professional code of conduct, and discourage employee corruption.

John Chen was corrupt.

A paranoid with low self-esteem, Chen lived for the headline, and this was normally Cole's ace. Cole often gave Chen information that allowed him to make breakthroughs on cases he would not have made otherwise. These breakthroughs led to a media profile few other criminalists enjoyed, Chen having been quoted more than a dozen times in the Los Angeles Times, interviewed by various local TV news anchors, and hired as a technical consultant on motion pictures based on two of his cases. Chen, whose obsessions in life revolved around women and money, currently drove a Porsche Boxster. The women had so far eluded him.

Cole worked his way onto the I-10 Freeway for the fifteen-mile trek across the Los Angeles Basin. He was approaching the Mid-City area less than halfway across when his phone rang, and he saw it was Pike. Cole had been struggling with what to tell Pike, but now the call forced his hand. If Wilson and Dru were still alive, he would say nothing until he knew more.

"Was it them?"

"Mendoza and Gomer. They're dead."

Cole felt a kick of surprise. Mendoza and Gomer were the predators. They weren't supposed to be dead. If the predators were dead, where were the victims?

"What about Wilson and Dru?"

"Nothing. Mendoza was in the canal by Washington. Gomer was in a car up at the north end. If the cops found something in Gomer's car, they haven't told me."

Pike quickly described how they were killed, which left Cole even more unsettled.

"When did it happen?"

"Fill you in later. I'm being questioned."

"You're a suspect?"

"It won't be a problem. They're covering the bases."

"There's a third player, Joe. The person who jimmied the kitchen window."

"I know. I've been thinking about it."

Pike hung up and Cole drove on, letting the flow of traffic carry him through increasingly darker thoughts.

When the Los Angeles Police Department relocated their headquarters from a decayed and crumbling Parker Center to the new Police Administration Building two blocks away, they forgot to take the Scientific Investigation Division with them. This wasn't factually the case, but was one of many jokes the criminalists liked to tell. The reality was that until a suitable site was found, SID would remain the last man standing in LAPD's past.

Cole didn't drive to the old Parker Center location. He waited for Chen outside the Criminal Courts Building six blocks away, arriving early and waiting an extra twenty minutes until John arrived.

Chen slipped into the passenger seat of Cole's car so fast it was as if he fell from the sky. He wore oversized dark sunglasses, a Dodgers cap pulled low on his face, and a windbreaker with the collar turned up even though it would reach almost ninety degrees later that day. His grapefruit head was tucked into the collar like a turtle into its shell. Hiding.

"I don't think anyone saw me, but we'd better drive. They might have followed."

Chen's paranoia.

Cole pulled into traffic, determined to make this a short drive. The news about Mendoza and Gomer had left him feeling even more concerned about Smith and Dru Rayne.

Cole reached behind the seat for his bag, and put it on Chen's lap. There wasn't much room. Chen was tall, skinny, and looked like a praying mantis folded into the front passenger compartment.

"It's breakable, so be careful."

"What's in here?"

"Glasses. A couple of soda cans. Things like that. I also have a metal box you can have when you get out of the car.

Chen took off the sunglasses and put on his regular glasses. The lenses looked like they had been cut from the bottoms of Coke bottles.

Chen peered inside.

"Shit, this is a lot. I have a caseload, man. I have so many cases my backlog has a backlog."

"I know it's a lot, but don't get ahead of yourself. The prints should belong to two individuals-a male and a female who live at the residence. The woman's prints should be on the deodorant stick. The male's prints are probably on the file box. Run the stick first, then the box. If you pull something clean, you won't have to clock anything else."

Chen didn't look any happier.

"I didn't say I couldn't do it. I just gotta figure out how. I'll have to work this stuff into the landing pattern, and that could take days."

The Latent Prints Unit was staffed twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The backlog of prints waiting to be analyzed was so large the unit employed almost eighty specialists around the clock to hold back the tide. With so many cases in line to be analyzed, a first-come-first-served waiting list was maintained to reserve the equipment needed for the work. This list was known as the landing pattern.

Cole said, "Days is too long. I need this."

Chen looked over, sour but thoughtful.

"For Joe?"

Cole nodded.

"What's up?"

"I'm hoping you can tell me. If these people are in the system, Joe needs to know why. I need to know why, too."

Chen shifted, maybe trying to get comfortable, but maybe because he was nervous. He was so tall his knees were above the dash and his head touched the roof.

Chen peeked into the bag again, then peered at Cole with enormous owl eyes.

"You know who I am?"

The question caught him by surprise, but then Cole sensed Chen wasn't talking to him-Chen was talking to himself. Cole shook his head.

"Sure you do, bro. All you have to do is look at me. I'm the guy defense attorneys make out to be the bumbling geek, so juries laugh. I hear cops making cracks when I'm at a scene. Every time I look in a mirror, I know why the girls laugh."

"John, you don't have to-"

Chen held up a finger, stopping him.

"When I first met you guys, I was freakin' terrified of Joe. He was everything that scares me shitless. Here's this guy, and no one would have the balls to make a crack or laugh. Here he is, a fucking street monster, but of all the people I deal with, he treats me with more respect than anyone else."

Chen lifted the bag.

"So I will find a way to do this. Pull over. I'll go get started."

"I'll take you back."

"I'd rather walk. It'll give me time to think."

Cole pulled over, and Chen got out with the bag.

"John."

"What?"

"Take the box."

Chen took the bag containing the box.

"If you speak with Joe, don't mention this."

Chen stared at Cole a long time, then abruptly walked away.