Robert Crais - The Last Detective

"Sure. Not a problem."

"Thanks. I appreciate this."

"I'll see you in the morning. Try to get some sleep."

"Like that could happen."

The darkest part of the night stretched through the hours, but little by little the eastern sky lightened. I barely noticed. By the time Starkey arrived, I had filled twelve legal-sized pages with names and notes. It was six forty-two when I answered the door. She was early.

Starkey held up a cardboard tray with two cups from Starbucks.

"I hope you like mocha. This is how I get my chocolate fix."

"That's nice of you, Starkey. Thanks."

She passed one of the cups to me. Morning light filled the canyon with a soft glow. She seemed to consider it, then glanced at the Game Freak. It was on the dining table with the pages.

"How far down the hill did you find the toy?"

"Fifty, sixty yards, something like that. You want to get going down there now?"

"The sun as low as it is, we'll have indirect light. That's not good. When the sun is higher, we'll get direct light. It'll be easier to see small objects and reconstruct what happened."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about."

"I've worked a few scenes."

She brought her coffee to the table.

"Let's see what you have with the names. Show me the most likely candidates first."

I showed her the list of people from my civilian cases first. The more I had thought about it, the more it seemed likely that one of them was behind what had happened to Ben. We sipped the coffee as we went through their names. Beside each name I had written down the crimes they had committed, whether or not they had been sentenced to prison, and whether or not I had killed anyone close to them.

Starkey said, "Jesus, Cole, it's all gangbangers, mobsters, and murderers. I thought you private guys did nothing but knock down divorce work."

"I pick the wrong cases."

"No shit. You have reason to believe that any of these people are familiar with your military history?"

"So far as I know, none of them know anything about me, but I guess they could find out."

"All right. I'll run them through the system to see if anyone's been released. Now let's talk about these other four men, the guys who died. Could their families blame you for what happened?"

"I didn't do anything for anyone to blame me."

"You know what I mean. Because their kid died and you didn't."

"I know what you meant and I'm telling you no. I wrote to their parents after it happened. Luis Rodriguez's mother and I corresponded until she died. That was six years ago. Teddy Fields's family sends me Christmas cards. When I mustered out, I went to see the Johnsons and Ted's family. Everyone was upset, sure, but no one blamed me. It was mostly just sad."

Starkey watched me as if she was convinced there had to be more, but she couldn't imagine what. I stared back at her, and once more thought she looked familiar.

I said, "Have we met? You looked familiar last night and now you look familiar again, but I can't place you."

Starkey glanced away. She took a foil packet from her jacket and swallowed a white tablet with the coffee.

"Can I smoke in here?"

"You can smoke on the deck. You sure we haven't met?"

"Positive."

"You look like someone."

Starkey studied the deck longingly, then sighed.

"Okay, Cole, here's how you know me: Recent current events for a thousand. The answer is: Ka-boom ."

I didn't know what she meant. Starkey spread her hands like I was stupid.

"Don't you watch Jeopardy!? Bombs. Bombers. The Bomb Squad lost a tech in Silver Lake a couple of months ago."

"That was you? "

"I gotta have a smoke. This is killing me."

Starkey pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jacket and broke for the deck. I followed her.

Carol Starkey had bagged a serial cop-killer who murdered bomb technicians. Mr. Red had been headline news in L.A., but most of the stories were about Starkey. Three years before Mr. Red, Starkey herself had been a bomb tech. She had been trying to de-arm a bomb in a trailer park when an earthquake triggered the initiator. Both Starkey and her partner had been killed, but Starkey was resuscitated at the scene. She had literally risen from the dead, which had yoked her with lurid nicknames like the Angel of Death and Demolition Angel.

Maybe she read what I was thinking. She shook her head as she fired up the cigarette, scowling at me.

"Don't even dream about asking, Cole. Don't ask if I saw white lights or pearly gates. I get that out the ass."

"I don't care about that, and I wasn't going to ask. All I care about is finding Ben."

"Good. That's all I care about, too. The bomb squad stuff, that's behind me. Now I do this."

"I'm happy for you, Starkey, but the bomb squad stuff was only a couple of months ago. Do you know anything about finding a missing boy?"

Starkey blew a geyser of smoke, angry.

"What are you asking, if I'm up to the job?"

I was angry, too. I had been angry since last night and I was getting more angry by the second.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm asking."

"I reconstructed bombs and bomb scenes, and traced explosives through the most perverted landscape you can imagine. I made cases against the assholes who built bombs and the dickwads who trade the components those assholes use. And I nailed Mr. Red. So you don't have to worry about it, Cole. I know how to detect, and you can bet your private-eye ass that I'm going to find this boy."

The sun was high now. The slope was bright. Starkey snapped her cigarette over the rail. I looked to see where it hit.

"Hey, we have a fire hazard up here."

Starkey faced me like the mountain was already an inferno and couldn't get any worse.

"We got plenty of light. Show me where you found the toy."

time missing: 15 hours, 32 minutes

Starkey changed shoes outside at her car, then met me on the side of my house wearing a pair of beat-up Asics cross-trainers with her pants rolled to her knees. Her calves were white. She stared warily down at the slope.

"It's steep."

"Are you scared of heights?"

"Jesus, Cole, I was just saying. The soil here is loose, I see a lot of irregular ground cover, and you've already been tramping around down there. That's going to make it harder. I want you to be careful not to contaminate the scene any more than you already have, which means all you're gonna do is show me where you found the Game Freak, then get the hell out of my way. We clear?"

"Look, maybe I was out of line. I'm good at this, too, Starkey. I can help."

"That remains to be seen. Show me."

When I stepped over the edge, she followed, but she looked awkward and uncomfortable.

Ben played on the hill so much that he had worn narrow paths that flowed with the rise and fall of the earth like trickling water. I led Starkey down the slope by following alongside the paths so that we wouldn't disturb his footprints. The ground was rugged and unbroken where I walked, and I noticed that Starkey was using the path.

"You're walking on his footprints. Walk where I walk."

She stared down at her feet.

"All I see is dirt."

"Just walk where I walk. Come over by me."

Ben's trail was easy to follow until we reached the base of the trees, then the soil grew rocky. It didn't matter; I knew the way from yesterday. We cut across the slope. Starkey slipped twice and cursed both times.

"Put your feet where you see me putting mine. We're almost there."

"I hate the outdoors."

"I can tell."

I pointed out the patch of rosemary where I had found the Game Freak and several of Ben's footprints. Starkey squatted in place as if she was trying to memorize every rock and spike of rosemary. After all the slipping and cursing, she was careful at the scene.