Uh-huh, that's me. People never remember their license. I saw her getting into her car one day, so I went out later and copied it.

Her car was a white Ford Neon with a California plate, and was likely the only true information we had unless she had stolen the car. I remembered seeing the Neon on the day we met.

Are the police coming back?

Yes, sir.

I didn't do anything wrong, did I?

You were lied to like everyone else.

We thanked him for the help, then went to our cars to phone Bastilla. She didn't seem particularly impressed.

We talk to you about this a half hour ago, and you're back on the case?

I told you I wouldn't sit it out, Bastilla. Are you interested in this or not?

So she's a liar, Cole. People lie all the time.

She's the only person we've found with a confirmed relationship to Byrd, and she's been lying to everyone, which means maybe she lied about Byrd, too. Doesn't that bother you?

Yes, it bothers me, but right now it doesn't mean much one way or another. This guy you spoke with, the manager, is he still on the premises?

Yeah. In his apartment.

Okay. Tell him to stay put. I'll see what the DMV has on her before we roll out.

I closed my phone, then looked at Pike.

They're coming out to see Langer.

Cool. Let's kick back and wait.

I laughed, then opened the phone again and called a friend at the DMV. I read off the Neon's plate, asked for the registration information, and had it in less than a minute. The Neon was registered to a Sara K. Hill with an address in a small community called Sylmar at the top of the San Fernando Valley.

Does the vehicle show stolen?

Nope. No wants, warrants, or unpaid citations. Registration is in order and up-to-date.

I put down the phone and told Pike.

He said, Maybe that's her real name.

Sara K. Hill was listed with Sylmar Information. I copied her number, then dialed. A woman answered on the sixth ring, her voice sounding older and coarse.

I said, May I speak with Ivy, please.

You have the wrong number.

She hung up.

I called her again, and this time she answered after only two rings.

Me, again. Is this Sara Hill?

Yes.

Sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to find Ivy Casik.

Well, good luck to you. I don't know anyone by that name.

She sounded more irritated than anything else.

I think maybe you might. She's driving your car.

Sara Hill's voice grew careful.

Are you from the credit card?

No, ma'am. I'm not from the credit card.

Her voice was still careful.

Who did you want?

A tall girl, straight hair, in her mid-twenties

Sara Hill cut me off.

I don't know anyone like that! Don't call here again!