San Luis Obispo was like Oak Knoll North. A town of thirty-five or forty thousand, not counting college students—it was home to the prestigious Cal Poly University. Like Oak Knoll, it had been built around a Spanish mission—the Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa—in 1772. Like Oak Knoll, the town was nestled between two mountain ranges—the Santa Lucia Mountains to the east and the Morros to the west. The surrounding countryside was dotted with farms and vineyards. The downtown boasted a charming shopping district with an array of boutiques, restaurants, coffeehouses, and galleries.

Unlike Oak Knoll, San Luis had its own police force. The city of Oak Knoll contracted with the sheriff’s office to protect and serve its residents. Though, as Oak Knoll continued to grow, there was talk that might change in the future.

The San Luis Police Department was a single-story building just off the 101 at Santa Rosa and Walnut. It housed fewer than one hundred personnel, with only about sixty or so sworn officers—only eight of whom were detectives. Two worked crimes against property. Three worked crimes against persons. Three had other duties.

Mendez and Hicks checked in at the desk and were asked to wait for their contact to come out and get them.

Detective Ron Neri was small, middle-aged, and rumpled in a way that suggested he had recently been trampled by a mob. He came down the hall, shuffling through a messy stack of papers that were barely contained in an open file folder. His pants were too long.

“Tony Mendez,” Mendez said, sticking a hand out for Neri. “This is my partner, Bill Hicks.”

Neri reached out for the handshake and nearly overturned his folder. “Ron Neri. Come on back.”

They followed along to an interview room and he motioned them to take seats.

Still fussing with his paperwork, Neri barely glanced up at them. “What can I do for you guys?”

“We’re looking for information on Roland Ballencoa,” Mendez said. “I left a message for you earlier. We came up from Oak Knoll.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Neri said. “I meant to call you back. Did I call you back?”

Mendez shot a look at Hicks as if to say, Can you believe this guy? He was like some kind of poor man’s Columbo.

“No, actually,” Mendez said. “It doesn’t matter. I would have come up anyway. Have you seen Ballencoa lately?”

“Ballencoa,” Neri said. “There’s a name I wish I’d never heard in my life.”

“He’s been a problem?” Mendez asked, feeling that zip of electricity down his back that always came with the expectation of a hot lead.

Neri rolled his eyes. “Not him. That woman.”

“Mrs. Lawton?”