"I was just going to look for you, Loo. This came in while I was copying."

Milo scanned the note. "You took this personally?"

"Came in on your cell, Loo. I copied pretty much verbatim."

Reed's meticulous cursive read: I gave you SAT dates why didn't you do anything? Go after Tristram Wydette and Quinn Glover, everyone already knows.

Reed said, "Young male. I tried to keep him on the line but he cut the connection."

"'Everyone already knows.'"

"I took that to mean at the school, Loo. It's like those school shootings, right, Doc? Kids brag."

I nodded.

Milo said, "Nothing like being outside the goddamn loop. Okay, get the copy to John, you might still be able to catch him in the lot. Then stay on call."

Reed rotated his neck. "It's happening."

"Something is, Moses."

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER
36

The chief listened.

Milo finished.

The chief said nothing.

"Sir?"

"Do you feel physically confident, Sturgis? You're not exactly a gym rat."

"Confident of--"

"Your ability to kick two young bucks' asses if necessary?"

"Depends on--"

"What I'm getting at, Sturgis, is do you feel secure enough to go in there without a fucking army? I'd like to avoid some three-penny SWAT opera."

"If the school cooperates and doesn't alert them I think I can handle that."

"The school won't alert anyone because the school won't know."

"You want me to go in cold."

"Interesting choice of words."

"Yes, sir, it is."

"This has been a tough one, Sturgis. Lingered in all our minds."

"It has, sir."

"Fuck it," said the chief. "Just do what you need to do, but if there's a way to minimize disruption, that would be preferable."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just get it over with."

We sped past the allee of Chinese elms. Herb Walkowicz was out of his booth before we rolled to a stop.

He tipped his hat. "Now what, guys?"

Milo showed him the warrants.

"Whoa, and here I was gonna give you the song and dance about calling Rollins before I can unlock the gates."

Laughing, he fetched his key from the booth.

The first of Windsor Prep's sixteen acres was an immaculate concrete-and-brick lot stack-parked with gleaming vehicles. Milo and I searched for Tristram Wydette's Jaguar and Quinn Glover's Hummer, found neither.

"Means nothing," he said. "Kids like that can have access to all kinds of wheels." But he called Reed and Binchy, anyway, to make sure they stayed close to the Wydette estate on Bellagio Drive and the even larger Glover spread, a few blocks away on Nimes Road.

Reed said, "There's a guardhouse in front. First I thought it was a dummy inside, guy was so still. Then he moved his head. Once in ninety minutes. Talk about a fascinating job."

"I don't like surveillance, either, Moses."

"Pardon--no, I don't mind it."

"Then keep enjoying."