THE DASHBOARD CLOCK said it was midnight as Keegan drove past the Beverly Hilton. He should have set out sooner—he was still a good twenty minutes from the old pier—but what did it matter? Whatever was waiting for him down there at the old pier could cool its heels and wait for him. He’d arrive when he arrived.

Tall, venerable palm trees lined both side of Santa Monica Boulevard, disappearing, at a quarter their height, into the streetlamps’ spidery glare. As he neared Pacific Coast Highway, the blockish, concrete offices gave way to squat, sunbaked clapboard buildings—pastel-painted tattoo parlors, dive bars, seedy diners, taquerias—all of them dark and shuttered. He yawned and rubbed his prickling eyes with the hand not on the wheel. The warm wind in his face, coming through his car’s rolled-down windows, was the only thing keeping him awake.

As a kid, this part of town had always held a heady sense of promise for Keegan. This was where, from the back seat of his grandfather’s Chrysler, he’d begin to notice gulls circling in the sky and catch the first whiff of salt breeze coming in off the Pacific. He’d built a kite one summer, using plans from a Boys’ Life magazine. It was a boxy thing built of newspaper and balsa, too heavy to be—

The passenger-side front wheel hit the curb with a jolt and glanced the car sideways. Keegan, jerked awake, braked and swerved back into the center of the road, where he stopped, stalled, angled across the boulevard’s centerline. His heart thudded in his chest.

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and tried to slow his breathing. He glanced behind him in the rearview mirror. He’d missed a parked Volkswagen by a couple of yards. He looked up and down the street for witnesses. The only headlights were a block behind him, idling at a red light. He started up the car again, giving it as little gas as he could while he turned the key, so as not to make much noise or draw attention. He slipped it into gear and let out the clutch, adrenaline still reaming his veins. He leaned forward and peered through the windshield, forcing his bleary eyes wide. He signaled and turned left on South Bundy. That would take him to Venice Boulevard.