Robert Crais - The Last Detective

John was having second thoughts. Maybe letting her drive wouldn't be so bad.

Chen was giving it serious consideration when Starkey shouted for him to haul his ass up right away.

"Hurry," she shouted. "C'mon, John, get up here!"

Bitch. Always in the driver's seat.

When Chen reached them, he found Starkey and Cole hovering over a clump of weeds like a couple of kids over buried treasure. A short squat Latina who had to be pushing retirement was with them. Chen immediately dismissed her. Hog.

"What are you screaming about? I got a lot to do."

Starkey said, "Stop with the tone and look at this."

Cole squatted to show him something in the weeds.

"Starkey found a cigar wrapper. We think it's his."

Chen took off his glasses for a closer inspection. Humiliating, but necessary: Chen looked like a world class geek with his nose only inches from the ground, but he wanted to see the wrapper clearly. It appeared to have been folded twice, and still contained a red and gold cigar band. The plastic evidenced slight weathering, but the band had not yet lost its brilliance, indicating that it had been here no more than a few days; red dyes faded fast. The plastic appeared to be smudged under a light layer of dust.

As Chen considered the smudges, Starkey related that Mrs. Luna had seen the suspect manipulate a cigar, though she had not seen him remove the wrapper or toss it away.

Chen pretended to listen, but mostly he fumed at how Starkey kept smiling at Cole and punching him on the shoulder.

Chen grumbled in his best sullen voice.

"Okay, I'll log it. Lemme get the kit."

"Log it, yeah, but we're bringing this straight to Glendale. I want you to check it for prints."

Chen wondered if she was drinking again.

"Now?"

"Yeah, right now."

"Bronstein's on her way."

"I don't want to wait for fuckin' Bronstein. We've got something here, John. Let's run it to Glendale and fish for a hit!"

Chen glanced at Cole for help, but Cole had the frayed eyes of a psychokiller. Maybe both of them were drunk.

"You know we can't leave the scene. C'mon, Starkey – if we leave, we break the chain of custody with all the evidence down below. It won't be good in court."

"I'll take that chance."

"It's not worth taking. I mean, if she saw the guy drop a wrapper that might be one thing, but we don't even know this is his. It could belong to anyone."

Starkey pulled Chen aside so that Mrs. Luna couldn't hear. Cole tagged along like Starkey's lapdog. They were probably already doing each other.

Starkey lowered her voice.

"We won't know that until we run the prints."

"We might not find prints. All I see are smudges. Smudges aren't the same as prints."

Chen hated that he sounded so whiny, but she wouldn't let it go. Leaving the scene unattended was a direct violation of SID and LAPD policy.

She said, "Nothing down that hill even comes close to this. It might not be his, John; maybe it isn't. But even if all you find is a few prints, we might be able to name him, and that puts us closer to finding the boy."

"It puts me closer to getting fired, is what it does."

Chen was worried. Starkey had done her damnedest to destroy herself and her career after she was blown up in the trailer park; she had been dumped by the Bomb Squad and then by CCS, so now she was stuck in a dead-end Juvenile desk. Maybe she was trying to kill herself again. Maybe she wanted to be fired. Chen edged closer to sniff her breath. Starkey pushed him back.

"Goddamnit, I'm not drinking."

Cole said, "John."

Chen scowled – here it came: Cole would probably threaten to kick his ass, him and his partner, Pike. Chen was certain that Cole was fucking her. Pike was probably fucking her, too.

Chen said, "I'm not doing it."

Cole said, "If the wrapper helps us, we'll tell them that you found it."

Starkey glanced at Cole, then nodded.

"Sure, if John wants the credit, it's his. This could be the breakthrough moment, man; guaranteed face-time on the evening news."

Chen thought about it. He had done pretty well with tips from Pike and Cole in the past. He had gotten a promotion and the 'tangmobile out of it, and had almost gotten laid. Almost. Chen glanced at Mrs. Luna to see if she could hear any of this, but she was safely away.

He said, "You cool with losing the evidence down below?"

Starkey's pager buzzed, but she ignored it.

"All I care about is finding this boy. Nothing down there matters if it helps us too late."

Cole stared at her for the longest time, then turned back to Chen.

He said, "Help us, John."

Chen thought it through: Yeah, it was a long shot, but nothing under the oak tree would or could give them an immediate ID on the perp, and this might. The odds weren't likely, but hope lived in possibilities. John, for instance, hoped to make the evening news. Helping to find the kid wouldn't be so bad, either.

Starkey's pager buzzed again. She turned it off.

Chen made up his mind.

"I'll get my stuff."

Starkey smiled wider than Chen had ever seen, then put her hand on Cole's shoulder. She left it. Chen hurried down the hill for his evidence kit, thinking that if Starkey drooled on Cole any more, she'd drown him with spit.

Witness to an Incident

When they brought Ben inside after they caught him on the side of the house the night before, Mike took a cell phone from a green duffel bag, then went into another part of the house. Eric and Mazi made Ben sit on the floor in the living room. When Mike came back, he held the phone a few inches from Ben's mouth. Ben sensed that someone was probably on the other end of the line, listening.

Mike said, "Say your name and address."

Ben shouted as loud as he could.

"HELP! HELP ME -!"

Eric clamped a hand over his mouth. Ben was terrified that they would hurt him because he had called for help, but Mike only turned off the phone and laughed.

"Man, that was perfect."

Eric squeezed Ben's face hard. Eric was still pissed off because Ben got him in trouble by almost getting away, so his face was flushed as red as his hair.

"Stop shouting or I'll cut off your fucking head."

Mike said, "You with the heads. He did great, yelling for help like that. Stop squeezing his face."

"You want the fuckin' neighbors to hear?"

Mike tucked the phone back into the duffel, then took out a cigar. He peeled off the wrapper as he considered Ben.

"He won't yell anymore, will you, Ben?"

Ben stopped squirming. He was scared, but he shook his head, no. Eric let go.

Ben said, "Who was that on the phone?"

Mike glanced at Eric, ignoring him.

"Put him in the room. If he starts screaming, put him back in the box."

Ben said, "I won't scream. Who was that? Was that my mama?"

Mike didn't tell him or answer any of his other questions. Eric locked him in an empty bedroom with giant sheets of plywood nailed over the windows, and told him to get some sleep, but Ben couldn't. He tried to pull the plywood off the windows, but it was nailed too tight. He spent the rest of the night huddled at the door, trying to hear them through the crack. Sometime during the middle of the night he heard Eric and Mazi laughing. He listened harder, hoping to find out what they were going to do with him, but they never once mentioned him. They talked about Africa and Afghanistan, and how they had chopped off some guy's legs. Ben stopped listening and hid in the closet the rest of the night.

Late the next morning, Eric opened the door.

"Let's go. We're bringing you home."

Just like that, they were letting him go. Ben didn't trust that Eric was telling the truth, but he wanted to go home so badly that he pretended it was real. Eric made him go to the bathroom, then marched him through the house to the garage. Eric was wearing a baggy plaid shirt with its tail hanging out. When he reached to open the door to the garage, his shirt pulled tight and Ben saw a pistol outlined at the small of his back. Eric hadn't been wearing the gun yesterday.