The cop’s light hovered over a pool of vomit. “Someone had a few too many shots. What’d you call it, miss?”

The drunk girl dropped her arm with the exaggerated motion of a six-year-old’s tantrum.

“Five for five. I’m gonna die.”

The officer turned back with a smirk. “Five shots in five minutes—that’ll do it.”

Caitlin noticed a bicycle against the wall.

“Where are her friends?”

“My guess is they saw me coming and hid.”

Caitlin looked at the bike, then the officer, then the girl. Nothing about the mountain bike screamed police department. His uniform looked like something anyone could buy at a costume store. The girl looked incapacitated.

“Where are your friends, Officer?”

“Ma’am?”

“Don’t you have a partner?”

He nodded. “Checking the block for her friends, ma’am.”

A third ma’am. Caitlin forced a smile. “It doesn’t look like she’ll fit on your bike.”

“No ma’am, but help is on the way. Please continue on to your destination.”

Caitlin crossed her arms. “I’ll wait right here until this help arrives.”

She had the officer’s attention. His smirk, long gone.

“Did I do something to you, ma’am?”

“You could lay off that ma’am shit, for starters.”

“Well, I don’t know your name.”

“All you need to know is that I’m going to sit here until I see either your partner return or someone in an official police vehicle escort this woman somewhere safe.”

“Why would you do that?”

Caitlin clenched her fingers into fists. “Angela Chapman.”

The officer looked like he might say something, but stopped.

A breathy voice spoke from behind Caitlin. “What about her?”

She turned, saw a female officer on a bike come to a stop. Fifty feet further down the street, a white Dodge Charger with low profile lights and iridescent decals approached, its flashing lights highlighting the word “POLICE.”

Caitlin turned back to the original officer. “Nothing. I’m sorry. Have a good night.”

The male officer’s smile returned. “You too, madam.”

Madam? Caitlin would have laughed, but she remembered the drunk girl. “What’s your name?”

The girl opened her eyes. “Laura Baker.”

“You shouldn’t be out here alone, Laura Baker. Feel better.”

“I’m gonna die,” she replied in a wail.

Caitlin shook her head. “Not tonight.”

She walked past the officer’s parked bike, noticed saddlebags stenciled with iridescent police decals, and wondered how she’d missed them the first time. Her heart pounded. No matter how hard she tried to control her breathing, her punk-rock heartbeat didn’t turn to easy listening until she hit the sheets of Mary’s bed.

Chapter 15

CHAPTER

15

Los Angeles