I threw away the ice, then searched for Bastilla's card. Her task force would have identified all the calls going into or out of Byrd's number, especially on the days leading up to his death. A legitimate writer or reporter would have identified himself, and Bastilla would know the full story. I didn't trust she would give me the truth, but I wanted to see her reaction.

Bastilla, it's Cole

Hey, man, thanks for getting those files to us. Levy messengered them over.

No problem. Now how about one for me were any journalists, reporters, or news agencies on the calls to or from Byrd's house?

Bastilla hesitated.

Why would you ask something like that?

A woman named Ivy Casik used to pick up groceries for him. Byrd told her a reporter was writing a book about how he was railroaded for the Bennett murder. She told me this person visited him on at least two occasions prior to his death.

Bastilla hesitated even longer.

Who's Ivy Casik?

She used to rent a room up on Anson across the street. She helped him out when he couldn't drive. You might want to talk to her.

How do you spell her name?

I spelled it and gave her Ivy Casik's address.

One more, Bastilla

It's late and I want to get out of here. The case is closed, man. We're finished. That's it.

Is it? Were any of Byrd's calls to a drug connection or someone who might have supplied him with the oxys?

How do you know about that?

Were there?

Good night, Cole. Really.

Guess your task force disbanded too soon.

Fuck off.

I took a shower, then cleaned the scrapes with hydrogen peroxide. I felt a little better after I put on fresh clothes but was still at loose ends, wondering why blind samples were being compared to the forensics Chen had been ordered to collect weeks after Debra's murder. The results would have been in the news if their tests put Lionel Byrd with Debra, so Byrd still wasn't a match.

Michael Repko called at twenty minutes after eight. He sounded subdued, and spoke in a low voice as if he didn't want to be overheard.

You want to talk about Debra, I guess it's okay.

Is it okay or not, Michael? Guesses don't help.

It's not so easy over here. Everyone blames you.

I understand that, Michael. So where are we going with this?

He gave me their address and told me to come over at ten the next morning.

All right. I'll see you at ten.

Something better come of this or we're gonna take up where we left off.

Then he hung up.

Tough to the end.

I sat on the couch feeling angry and bad. I grew so angry I called Bastilla again, but this time she didn't answer.

When her message beeped, I said, It's Cole again. Tell your pal Crimmens the next time I see him I'm going to kick his ass.