I sucked air, trying to catch my breath. My head throbbed. So did my shoulder, my back, and my right knee. The Foo Fighter held his shoulder, gritting his teeth like it burned. The kid was on his knees, his eye bloody and swelling. The first guy rose to a knee, watching Pike as if he wanted to go for more. The first guy was the oldest.

Pike said, You okay?

Uh-huh.

Look winded.

Uh.

I got it.

Pike moved on them the way he'd done a hundred times when he was a police officer, pushing them down as he gave the commands.

Belly. Fingers laced behind your heads.

They assumed the position. We patted down the Foo Fighter and the kid, but when I touched the oldest guy he shoved my hand.

Don't fuckin' touch me, piece of shit.

You trash my office?

Fuck you.

I planted a knee on the back of his neck and touched him anyway. None of them had weapons. I took their wallets, and matched the pictures on their DLs to their faces. The kid was Gordon Repko. He was eighteen years old. The Foo Fighter was Dennis Repko, who was twenty. The oldest was Michael Repko, age twenty-four. All three showed the same home address in Pasadena, California. Michael Repko was also carrying a military ID card, identifying him as a sergeant in the United States Army Reserve. That explained the high and tight cut and fierce desert eyes. They had frightened John Chen when he went to their house, and now they had frightened me.

I gimped to my car and leaned on the fender. I felt tired in a way that had nothing to do with fighting for my life in a cul-de-sac in the Hollywood Hills.

Debra Repko was their sister.

Pike lowered his gun, but didn't put it away.

Dennis Repko said, You got her killed, you fuck. It's your fuckin' fault.

Pike said, Mm.

I looked from brother to brother and felt even more drained by the hate and fear in their faces. The Pasadena address was a nice one. These three kids had probably never wanted for anything, had a solid family, and attended good schools. Three angry white boys, wanting to dump their grief on the person they blamed.

You trashed my office and followed me to get some payback. That what it is?

Michael Repko said, So what are you going to do, shoot us? Fuck you. I'll fight you right here. Man to man.

Pike said, You just did. You're on your ass.

I went back to Michael, and squatted to look at him.

I might have shot you. I might have shot your brothers, and I could still have you arrested. This was stupid.

Gordon said, She was our sister.

Gordon, the youngest, was crying.