Poitras took even longer to answer this time.

Wow.

What do they have?

I don't know what to tell you.

Does that mean you won't tell me?

It means I don't know what they have. You know Bobby McQue?

Bobby McQue was a senior detective on Lou's squad.

Yeah, I know Bobby.

Bobby had it, but downtown rolled in when they saw we had a possible serial. They cut us out.

So what did McQue find before you were out? C'mon, Lou, I need to know if this is real, man. Right now, it feels like a nightmare.

Poitras didn't respond.

Lou?

Behind me, Pike spoke loud enough for Poitras to hear.

Tell Poitras to man-up.

Was that Pike?

Yeah. He was here when Bastilla showed up.

Poitras hated Pike. Most L.A. police officers hated Pike. He was once one of them.

Poitras finally sighed.

Okay, listen. The chief running the task force wants a tour before they go public, so I gotta go up there later. You want, you can meet me up there now. We'll walk you through the scene.

Poitras gave me the address.

We won't have much time, so get up there right now.

I understand.

Poitras hung up.

He's going to let me see Byrd's house.

Pike said, Poitras won't want me up there.

I'm just going to see what they have. You don't need to come.

Pike moved for the first time since Crimmens and Bastilla left. Maybe I had stood a little too quickly. Maybe my voice was a little too high. Pike touched my arm.

Were you right three years ago?

Yes.

Then you're still right. You didn't get those two women killed. Even if the police have something, you didn't kill them.

I tried to give him a confident smile.

Say hi to Ray. If it's bad, I'll give you a call.

Pike left, but I did not leave with him. Instead, I went out onto the balcony and let the bone-dry heat swallow me. The glare made me squint. The nuclear sun crinkled my skin.

Picture the detective at work in his office, fourth floor, Hollywood, as the Devil's Wind freight-trains down from the desert. Though dry and brutally harsh, the desert wind is clean. It pushes the smog south to the sea and scrubs the sky to a crystalline blue. The air, jittery from the heat, rises in swaying tendrils like kelp from the seabed, making the city shimmer. We are never more beautiful than when we are burning.

Knock, knock, thought you'd like to know, after you cleared that guy he murdered two more women, it should be hitting the news about now, their families should be crying about now.

I locked my office and went to see what they had.

The phone rang again as I went out the door, but I did not return to answer it.

Chapter 3

Starkey