Michael Prescott - In Dark Places

"Robin Cameron."

"Yes, sir."

"The same Robin Cameron who was nearly carjacked yesterday? What is she, a one-woman crime magnet? Jesus." He took a breath before asking the obvious question. "Is she dead?"

"Gray roughed her up a little, that's all. But he killed one of the correction officers on escort duty."

"Cameron saw all this?"

"I guess so. I don't know the details. She's talking to some Rampart officers now."

"She's lucky to be alive. Gray isn't the type of guy to leave a witness. All right, I'm coming in, but it may take a while for me to get there, with the crosstown traffic at this hour. I want you ready with a complete rundown to bring me up to speed as soon as I walk in the door. And get out my spare uniform. I'm in civvies now. I want to be properly attired for the" cameras , he almost said"the investigation."

"Chief" a new voice spoke up"I don't know if that's a good idea."

It was Banner, Hammond's de facto public relations manager, although his official title was office coordinator, whatever that meant. Only the chief of police was authorized to have his own media handler.

"You don't want me wearing my uniform?" Hammond snapped.

"I don't want you getting involved in this case, period."

"And why is that?"

"This thing is a mess," Banner said. His voice faded in and out. He seemed to have been patched through on a cell. "It's too high-risk. There's no telling where this might go. I say palm it off on the Rampart guys or RHD."

"You lack vision, Phil." Hammond was smiling. "Where you see risk, I see opportunity."

"I'm just saying it could amp;" Fadeout.

"What? Didn't catch that. Where the hell are you calling from, anyway?"

"Halfway home. I mean, I figured if you were taking a half day for the dentist amp;"

Hammond got it now. "You'd kick back, too. How convenient."

"It's not like that. Caroline's in a music recital. I thought I could catch it. It's not like I see much of my family any other time."

"Whenever you want to be rotated back to Traffic, just say the word."

"No, sir. That wasn't what I meant at all."

"Good. Well, Helen will just have to videotape your daughter's performance. Turn your car around and come back to work. Read me?"

"Yes, sir. But I still say this course of action is unwise. It could backfire on us. It could undo all the hard work we'veI mean, the work you've done."

Hammond sighed. "Phil, I remember the Justin Gray case. He's a mutt. You ever see his jacket? He already did a two-year slide in Chino for auto theft, and he's got a bunch of small-time crap on his sheet."

"Even so"

"Even so, nothing. He's a nobody, a sewer rat. Tattoos all over his body, pierced earshell, probably pierced nipples , for Christ's sake. Talks like a goddamn gangbanger. Hasn't got any better than a tenth-grade education amp;"

"I don't see what"

"He's strictly small-time, is my point. Sure, he terrorized the city for a while, and sure, the media made him into the devil incarnate. That's what they always do with these idiots, make them bigger than life. But he's a loser, and the only reason it look so long to collar him is that he was working alone so there was nobody to drop a dime on him."

"Granted, but"

"But nothing. We know who he is now. We know his name, his face, what he eats for breakfast. He can't run far. He can't hide. He is federally fucked. We'll nab him in a few hourshopefully in time for the eleven-o'clock news. And when we do, guess who'll be running the press briefing?"

"It's dangerous, Chief."

"Faint heart never won fair lady. I'm coming in, and so are you, Lieutenant. Carl, you still there?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're actually in the office, I assume? Not phoning this in from Zuma Beach?"

"I'm at my post, sir," Lewinsky said with a mincing tone. Hammond could almost see the man's self-important smirk. He was a toady, but a reliable one.

"See if you can get in touch with my wife. If she's home, maybe we can messenger my dress blues to the office." The spare uniform he kept at work wasn't formal.

"Uh, yes, sir."

"On second thought, scratch that. Might be better if I'm not all decked out. I want to look like a working cop. Anyway, the public won't care what I'm wearing. All they'll care about is that a ruthless psychopath has been speedily recaptured, thanks to the outstanding work of those whose motto and duty is to protect and serve. Phil, you get that?"

"Got it, Chief."

"Use that in my remarks announcing Gray's arrest. I want a rough draft in an hour. Dictate into your microrecorder while you drive. Better do an alternate version announcing that he was killed resisting arrest, just in case."

"Yes, sir." Banner still sounded dubious.

"Hey, don't worry, be happy. You'll catch Candice's next recital."

"Caroline, sir."

"Right. In the meantime, we'll hook and book this asshole and look like heroes. Hell, if we play this right, I could be bumped up to the A-chief slot." Assistant chief was a higher rank than deputy chief. It was, in fact, only one step below the coveted COP position itself.

"I still say" Banner began.

Hammond cut him off. "Don't sweat it. You're about to see the master in action, Phil. Just sit back, take notes, and enjoy the show."

Wolper was out of breath and sweating hard when he emerged from his Mercury Sable and slammed the door.

"What the hell happened here?"

He addressed the question to two patrolmen standing at the rear entrance of the office building where Robin Cameron worked. They were only two of the patrol officers deployed here. A total of three squad cars were slant-parked nearby, along with the two rescue ambulances Wolper had followed into the lot. Four paramedics were exiting the RAs, carrying their gear into the building. There was also a prisoner transport van with Sheriff's Department markings. The driver wasn't in sight.

Wolper didn't expect to be recognized, since he was outside his territory, driving his personal car, and wearing civilian clothesbutton-down shirt and a sport jacket. But one of the cops by the door knew him anyway. "Lieutenant?"

"In the flesh." He nodded to the cop's partner. "Lieutenant Wolper, Newton Area."

"You're a ways off your beat, sir," the first man said.

"I'm off duty, too. I'm about fifteen minutes late for a four-o'clock with Dr. Cameron." It occurred to him that an appointment with a shrink didn't sound too good. "Business meeting," he added.

"All right, sir." The cop sounded skeptical.

Wolper let it drop. "I drive in behind two RAs and see three LAPD squads and a sheriff's van. This have anything to do with Dr. Cameron?"

"Yes, sir."

"Figured as much." He pointed at the van. "One of her patients from County?"

"Not just any patient. It was Justin Gray."

Wolper blew out a long breath. "Is Dr. Cameron amp;?"

"She's okay. Just shook up. Gray attacked her, knifed one of the transport deputies."

"How bad?"

"We called the RA, but truthfully, I think it's too late."

"And Gray? Please tell me he's not at large."

"I'm afraid so, Lieutenant."

Wolper spent a moment staring at the van. "The minute this gets out, we'll have a media circus. Who called it in?"

"The other deputythe driver."

"He didn't put it on the radio, did he?" LAPD radios were digital and encrypted, immune from eavesdroppers, but the Sheriff's Department had not yet converted to digital communications. Anyone could listen in on their frequencies.

"He used the radio"the other cop spoke for the first time"but he never mentioned Gray. Just called in a four-fifteen and officer-down."

Wolper nodded. "Okay. Look, be careful what you say even on the police bands. I know these high-tech transmissions are supposed to be secure, but watch yourself anyway. Who's running the scene?"