Robert Crais - The First Rule

Pike had tucked three snapshots in the yearbook. One showed Ana with Frank Meyer’s two little boys, so Cole put it aside. The second showed Ana with two girlfriends, the three of them on a soccer field, arms around each other with huge, happy smiles. In this picture, one of the girls had short black hair with purple highlights, and the other was a tall girl with long, sandy brown hair, milky skin, and freckles. The third photo showed Ana and the brown-haired girl at what appeared to be a Halloween party. They wore identical flapper costumes, and had struck a funny pose with their splayed hands framing their faces like a couple of jazz-era dancers.

The background in the soccer field picture suggested a school campus, so Cole went back to the yearbook. He started at the beginning of the 1,284 senior class pictures and scanned the rows of portraits, hoping to get lucky. He did. The brown-haired girl was named Sarah Manning.

Cole phoned Information, and asked if they had a listing for that name in Glendale. He was hoping to get lucky again, but this time he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, sir. We have no listing by that name.”

“What about Burbank and North Hollywood?”

Burbank and North Hollywood were next to Glendale.

“Sorry, sir. I already checked.”

Cole put the yearbook aside and examined Ana’s computer. It was an inexpensive PC that took forever to boot up, but the desktop finally appeared, revealing several neatly arranged rows of icons. Cole studied the icons for an address book, and found something called Speed Dial . He typed in Sarah Manning, clicked Search , and there she was.

Cole said, “The World’s Greatest Detective strikes again.”

The entry for Sarah Manning showed an address in Glendale, an 818 phone number, and a gmail Internet address. Cole almost never called in advance. People tended to hang up on him, and never returned his calls, but driving to Glendale to find out Sarah Manning had moved didn’t appeal to him. For all he knew, she was pulling a tour in Afghanistan.

He called the number, and was surprised when she answered.

“Hello?”

“Sarah Manning?”

“Yes, who is this, please?”

She sounded breathy, as if she was in a hurry. It occurred to him she might not know that Ana Markovic had been murdered, but she did, and didn’t seem particularly upset.

Cole said, “I’d like to sit down with you for a few minutes, Sarah. I have some questions about Ana.”

“I don’t know. I’m at school.”

“East Valley High?”

“Cal State Northridge. High school was two years ago.”

“Sorry. This won’t take long, but it’s important. I understand you were close with her.”

“Did they catch the people who did it?”

“Not yet. That’s why I need your help.”

She was slow to answer, as if she had to think about it.

“Well, okay, like what?”

“In person is better.”

“I’m really busy.”

Cole studied the picture of Ana and Sarah in the flapper outfits. Cole didn’t want to ask about prostitute sisters and Serbian mobsters over the phone, especially since these things might turn out to be lies.

“It’s important, Sarah. You’re on campus? I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Well, I guess so. I’ll have to cut class.”

Like it was the end of the world.

Sarah described a coffee shop on Reseda Boulevard not far from campus, and told him she would meet him in twenty minutes. Cole hung up before she could change her mind.

Twenty-two minutes later, he found her seated at an outside table. She was wearing pale blue shorts, a white T-shirt, and sandals. Her hair was shorter than in the high school picture, but otherwise she looked the same.

“Sarah?”

Cole gave her his best smile and offered his hand. She took it, but was clearly uncomfortable. He nodded toward the deli.

“Would you like something?”

“This is just weird, that’s all. I don’t know what I can tell you.”

“Well, let’s see where the answers take us. When was the last time you spoke with her?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“A year. Maybe more than a year. We kinda drifted apart.”

“But you were close in high school?”

“Since seventh grade. We all came from different elementaries. We were the three musketeers.”

Cole flashed on the picture of the three girls on the soccer field.

“Who was the third?”

“Lisa Topping. I thought about Lisa while I was waiting. You should talk to Lisa. They stayed in touch.”

“Black hair, purple highlights?”

Sarah cocked her head, and seemed engaged for the first time.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Ana had a picture of the three of you in her room. She had a picture of you and her dressed like flappers, too. That’s how I found your name.”

Sarah stared at him for a moment, then looked away. She blinked several times, and her eyes grew pink.

Cole said, “You sure I can’t get you something? Water?”

She shook her head, glancing away as if eye contact was painful.

“No, I’m just-I don’t know-”

She suddenly reached into her purse and came out with her cell phone. She punched in a number, then held the phone to her ear. Voice mail.

“Hey, honey, it’s me. There’s this guy here, his name’s Elvis Cole and I guess he’s working with the police or something, he wants to know about Ana. Call him, okay-”

She covered her phone.

“What’s your number?”

Cole told her, and she repeated it. Then she put away her phone.

“She’ll call. It’s her you should talk to.”

“Purple hair.”

“Not anymore, but yeah. She goes to school in New York, but they stayed in touch.”

She seemed sad when she said it, and Cole wondered why.

“Great. I will. But you’re here, and you’ve known her since the seventh grade, too, so I’ll bet you can help. My understanding is she lived with her sister. Is that right?”

Sarah nodded, but stared at the street.

“That’s right. Her parents were dead. They died when she was little. Back in Serbia.”

“Uh-huh. And what was her sister’s name?”

Cole made as if he was poised to take notes. He had two objectives. He wanted to see if Rina’s story checked out, and, if so, he was hoping to learn something that might help find Darko.

Sarah said, “Rina. I think her full name was Karina, with a K , but we called her Rina.”

So far so good.

“You knew the sister?”

“Well, yeah. They lived together. Kinda.”

“What’s the ’kinda’ mean?”

Sarah suddenly shifted, and grew irritated.

“Dude, I’m not an idiot. I know you know. Rina was a prostitute. That’s how she paid the rent.”

Cole put down his pen.

“Did everyone know?”

“Ohmigod, no. Just me and Lisa, and we had to swear. Rina didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t even want Ana to know, and Ana only told us because she had to tell someone. It was demented.”

“Her sister being a prostitute.”

“Yes! I mean, we were kids. We thought it was cool, like this glammy, sexy Hollywood thing. But it was creepy. After a while when you thought about it, it was just gross.”

She wet her lips and looked away again, and Cole sensed this was probably why they had grown apart.

“Did Rina see clients at home while Ana was there? Is that what you mean?”

“No, nothing like that. She would go away for a few days. I guess she worked at one of those places. She would go away for a few days, and then she would come back.”

Sarah made an exaggerated shiver.

“Yuck.”

Cole wondered how many people knew, and how far word had spread.