Robert Crais - The First Rule

Pike left the parking garage like any other resident and made his way along a sidewalk between the buildings. The grounds were large, with eight separate three-story buildings laid out like four “equals” signs end to end in a line. The buildings followed a curve of land between the river channel and a residential street, and were pleasantly shaded with tall gray eucalyptus trees and thick oleanders. Pike searched almost ten minutes before he realized the apartment number wasn’t 2205, but was apartment 205 in building number 2. He found the apartment in the second-to-last building.

It was quiet at the rear buildings, with all the daytime activity around the pool and up front by the mailboxes and parking garages.

Pike climbed a flight of stairs, found 205, and listened at the door. The apartment was silent, so he covered the peephole and knocked. When no one answered, he knocked again, harder, but still heard nothing.

Pike checked the area to make sure no one was watching, then wedged the end of the pry bar into the jamb where the dead bolt was seated. The door had more play than he expected, so Pike pressed harder, and realized the dead bolt wasn’t locked. He gave the pry bar a hard shove, and the jamb gave at the knob lock. Pike stepped inside, then closed the door, having to force it past the splintered jamb.

Pike found himself in a small, simply furnished apartment that was dim because of the pulled curtains. He was in the living room, facing an open kitchen to his right and a bedroom to his left. The kitchen and bedroom were separated by a door that was probably a bathroom. The bedroom door was open, but the bathroom door was closed. The shower was running.

Pike drew the Python as he crossed to the bedroom. He made sure the bedroom was empty, then moved to the kitchen as the shower stopped. Quick glance into the kitchen, then he turned toward the bathroom, waiting, the gun hanging along his leg.

The door opened an inch, then suddenly opened wider with a billow of steamy air. Rina came out with her eyes down, vigorously toweling her hair. She was naked, with very white skin and a fleshy body. In the instant before she realized she was not alone, Pike studied her, seeing that corded pink scars crisscrossed her belly as if she had been clawed. The scars were so deep they puckered, and Pike knew by their faded color they were old.

Then she saw him. She shrieked and lurched sideways, bunching the towel to cover herself.

Pike raised the gun enough to make sure she saw it, but did not point it at her.

“Who killed them?”

She was as still as an ice sculpture. Her white face paled to translucence, her gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes highlighted by points of blue. She stood with the towel, water leaking across her shoulders and down her legs.

Pike said, “Who?”

“Get out of here. I will call the police.”

“Who?”

“You are insane. I will scream.”

She glanced at the door just as Pike heard the knob, and Yanni stepped through carrying what looked like a large gym bag. He was so big he filled the door, and had to tip sideways to enter.

A scowl flickered on the big man’s face even as he dropped the bag and charged. Rina shouted something in the other language, but Pike simply waited as he watched Yanni come.

Yanni came hard and large the way big men do, trusting his size to do everything for him, so Pike knew Yanni had never been properly trained. He came in with his arms up and out, planning to drive Pike into the wall. Pike was so far ahead of the play he saw the steps of what was about to happen as if they were preordained.

He let Yanni reach him, then pushed Yanni’s hand down to hook his arm. Pike dropped under and brought the arm with him, rolling the big man over his hip, and put Yanni flat on his back. Pike hit him on the forehead with the Python. Pike hit him again, harder, and this time the skin split deep and Yanni’s eyes turned glassy.

It took less than two seconds, but when Pike glanced up Rina was already in the bedroom.

He reached her as she turned from the bed with the pistol, caught it, and twisted it away. She didn’t quit easily. She punched at him and tried to claw his eyes as Pike dragged her backward to the living room so she could see Yanni. Her elbows cut into him, and she stomped at his feet and made grunting noises while trying to rake his eyes.

Pike said, “Stop.”

Yanni was still down, blinking in confusion at the blood filling his eyes.

“I know you know. The mob owns you. You know who did this.”

She fought even harder, whipping her head from side to side. She was strong. Muscles like rope under the pale skin.

Pike squeezed so tight that something in her cracked. He hammered back the Python.

“I won’t ask you again.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I know. I know who killed them. I know who did this.”

“Who?”

“My husband.”

Pike held her trapped in his arm, the water from her hair soaking into his skin, her chest heaving.

Pike told her to wrap herself in the towel, then put her on the couch. She glanced at Yanni, still flat on his back.

“What about him?”

“He’s bleeding.”

“We should do something.”

“After you tell me.”

She didn’t like that, and said something to Yanni in Serbian.

Pike said, “English.”

Yanni rubbed stupidly at his face, smearing the blood on his arm. Pike slipped her pistol into his pocket, then positioned himself so he could see both of them at the same time. If Yanni tried to get up, Pike wanted to know.

Pike said, “Who’s your husband?”

“Michael Darko. You know this name?”

“No. He’s a thief?”

She smirked, as if Pike was an idiot. She was cool and aloof, even naked on the couch with Yanni bleeding on the floor.

“Please. He is a boss of thieves.”

“Okay, the boss. Was he your boss when you were arrested for prostitution?”

A tint of pink colored her cheeks.

“Yes. He bring me here to America. I work for him then.”

“Okay, the boss of thieves is a pimp. This boss sent a crew to Frank’s house?”

“Yes.”

“Did he go with them?”

“Maybe he go, maybe not. I was not there.”

“What did he go there to steal?”

“My baby.”

Her answer hung in the air like a frozen moment, as surprising as if they had gone to steal a nuclear bomb. Pike stared at her, thinking about what she had said, her gaunt face as smooth as porcelain, her eyes as hard as marble.

“Frank and Cindy had your baby?”

“My sister. I give him to my sister when I find out Michael is going to take him. I hide him with her until we can leave.”

Pike tried to get his head around it. Then he remembered seeing the box of Pampers in Ana’s room. He had seen it, but thought nothing of it because it was just another box. There had been no crib, or bassinet, or baby food-just the one box of Pampers.

“A baby.”

“Yes.”

“How old?”

“Ten months.”

She sat up straighter, pulling her shoulders back and chest out.

“I look good, yes? I do much hard work.”

“Michael and his crew, they’ve invaded six other homes. They’ve killed other people. He have kids in those places, too?”

Her eyes flashed, angry.

“I don’t know nothing about other things. All I know is this. Michael want his child. He take him back to Serbia.”

Terrio hadn’t mentioned a kidnapping. Neither had Chen or anyone else, and then Pike realized why.

“You didn’t tell the police, did you?”

“Of course not. They cannot help me.”

Of course not.

Yanni was waking up. He touched his face, then looked at the blood on his palm as if he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Pike moved the gun toward him.