Robert Crais - The Watchman

“Ah. You want’m field dressed?”

“Just let me know.”

Pike reset the alarms, reset the surveillance camera, then went to his fridge. He opened two bottles of Corona, poured the beer down the sink, then placed the empty bottles on the counter. The counter had been clean when the men were here, but now the bottles stood out like tall ships on the horizon. When the men returned, they would see that Pike had been home. They would tell themselves if he came home once, he would come home again, and they might decide to wait.

Pike wanted them to wait.

Elvis Cole

Larkin Conner Barkley wouldn’t talk to him. Cole asked about the property owners and tenants near her loft, but he might as well have spoken in a foreign language. Her lips pulled into a pensive bud, and she stared down the street as if Pike’s car had been a shimmering mirage.

“I can’t believe he left me like this. He dismissed me.”

Cole said, “The nerve of him. That cad.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the second time you’ve hinted at sex, but I still have to refuse.”

Larkin crossed the street without waiting for him and went directly to Cole’s car. Some people didn’t appreciate humor.

Cole decided to give her some space, so they drove back in silence. He couldn’t blame her for being tired of answering questions and talking about the same things over and over, and he didn’t want to get down on her for showing the strain. He still had questions, but the answers would keep until later.

On the way back to Echo Park, he stopped at a small grocery store in Thai Town, figuring the odds were better she wouldn’t be recognized at a small ethnic market. He expected her to give him an argument when he asked her to come in with him, but she didn’t. She seemed calmer by then. She quietly inspected the strange labels and odd packages while he filled two bags with food, milk, a kid’s drawing pad, a plastic ruler, and two bottles of plum wine. The only time she spoke was when she saw the wine.

“I don’t drink.”

“You can watch me. You want anything special? Fruit? Some kind of dessert?”

“I don’t want anything.”

She said nothing else. Her slack expression returned, and Cole felt even worse for her. Back in the car, he dug around in the glove box for his iPod and dropped it in her lap.

“You know how it works?”

“He won’t let me have it.”

“He’ll let you have this one.”

Larkin held it, but made no attempt to listen.

When they got back to the house, she took a bath. She didn’t tell him she was going to take a bath or anything else; she disappeared into the bathroom and soon the water was running. Cole put away the groceries, then brought the pad and his notes to the table. His notes completely filled the backs of each page of the accident report, and described in detail every building and business in Larkin Barkley’s neighborhood. Cole set to work drawing a map, building it block by block, one block per page. He divided each block into boxes to represent buildings and labeled each building with its address. He listed the names of the businesses as well as their phone numbers and any other notes he had made.

He was finishing the first map when he grew worried. The water had stopped. It had stopped running a long time ago, but Larkin was still in the bathroom.

Cole went to the door and knocked.

“You okay?”

She didn’t answer.

Cole tried the knob, but the door was locked. He knocked again. Harder.

“Larkin?”

“I’m soaking.”

At least she wasn’t killing herself.

Cole returned to the table and went back to work. The tub glugged as it drained, and water ran again, but he let her soak. If she wanted to look like a prune, that was up to her. After a while, she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, went into her bedroom, and closed the door. Cole completed his map of her street, then set to work charting the surrounding streets. He was convinced that Meesh and the Kings had been in the area for a purpose. They had been going to or coming from a target destination, and that target was likely one of the buildings or businesses on his map. Cole was also convinced the feds believed the same; twelve of the sixteen people Cole interviewed had also been questioned by agents of the U.S. Department of Justice. Pitman, Blanchette, and at least two other agents had questioned them about the accident, the Kings, and Meesh.

Cole thought nothing of it until he went through his notes to build a timeline of events. Then he discovered a discrepancy.

Cole worked steadily for almost an hour before Larkin came out of the bedroom. She came out wearing fresh five-hundred-dollar jeans, a tight black Ramones T-shirt, and the iPod. She looked fresh and clean without makeup or jewelry, and her feet were bare. She stretched out on the couch with her feet hanging over the arm, closed her eyes, and rocked to the iPod, her right foot moving with the beat.

Cole said, “Hey.”

Her eyes opened and she looked at him.

Cole said, “The feds didn’t know Meesh was Meesh until you identified him?”

“No.”

“That’s what they told you?”

“Yeah. They got all excited when we finally had his name.”

Cole returned to his timeline, but didn’t really work after that. The twelve people who had been questioned by the feds had all been questioned the day after the accident. The very next day. All twelve stated the feds had shown them pictures of two men, and all twelve had described the same two pictures. It was as if Pitman knew or suspected Meesh was the missing man even before he met with the girl, and had lied about what he knew.

Twenty minutes later, Cole saw movement and glanced up. Larkin rolled off the couch, went to the window, and peered out at the street. The day was dimming, and soon they would have to pull the shades.

Cole said, “If you’re getting hungry I’ll make dinner. I just want to finish this.”

She didn’t hear him. She was looking up the street, then shifted position to look in the opposite direction.

Cole wadded up a piece of paper and bounced it off her back. When she turned, Cole touched his ear, telling her to take off the headset.

She said, “Did you say something?”

“If you’re hungry I’ll make dinner.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

Him.

“He might be late.”

“I’m okay.”

She went back to the couch and resumed her position, only now her foot didn’t move. Cole went on with his work.

“Was he really in Africa?”

Cole glanced up. She was still stretched out on the couch with her feet up, but now she was looking at him. Cole was surprised Pike told her about Africa. Pike never mentioned those days, and had rarely spoken of them even back when he was making the trips. Way it had been, Pike would say something like, I’ll be gone for a while. Cole would say okay, and a few days later Pike would vanish. Couple of weeks after that, Pike would call, say something like, Everything okay? Cole would say, Sure, everything’s fine, and Pike would say, I’m back if you need me.

Larkin misread Cole’s silence and made a cynical laugh.

“I thought so. I knew he was making it up.”

Cole tamped the pages together and settled back. He had done a lot of work on the map and now had more questions than answers.

“What did he tell you?”

“He watched a woman cut off her own fingers. What a gross thing to say. Like I’m supposed to be impressed by that. What a gross and disgusting thing, trying to scare me.”

“You changed your mind about dinner? I’m pretty much finished here.”

“No.”

She wrapped her arms across her breasts and stared at the ceiling.