“Maybe a defiant message to Brad from Dylan and Nora: ‘We’re still together.’ That also fits with planting the Toyota in one of Brother’s Treasured Spaces. Is there some reason you don’t trust Brad?”

“Because I didn’t tell him everything? No, I just don’t know enough to be sharing. Why, does he bug you?”

“No, but I think his value as a source of data is limited. He clearly overestimates his authority with Nora.”

“Not so take-charge sib.”

“He assumed the caretaker role because Billy and Nora aren’t competent. That allowed them to remain adult children. Nora’s more of a perpetual adolescent— self-centered, casually sexual, smokes up. And what do rebellious teens do when they’re cornered? They resist passively or fight back. When Brad insisted she break off with Meserve, Nora chose passive.”

“Tooling off in her Range Rover and leaving lover boy’s heap behind so they can travel in style? Yeah, could be. So what do we have, just a road trip? Bonnie and Clyde in fancy wheels cutting town because they’ve been doing bad things.”

“Don’t know,” I said. “People who attend Nora’s school keep disappearing, but now that we know Peaty’s got wheels he’s got to remain center focus.”

“A van. Your basic psycho meat wagon. And soon he’s gonna be unemployed. If Sean’s yanked off surveillance and that bastard sneaks away, I’m further back than when I started.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “I screwed up by telling Brad about Peaty’s van.”

“Peaty cleans lots of buildings,” I said. “It was the right thing to do, morally.”

“Weren’t you listening? I was covering my own ass.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you.”

While we waited for the LAPD tow truck to arrive, Milo tried phoning Binchy. Again no connection. He said something about the “high-tech big lie” and paced up and down the block.

The truck appeared, moving slowly as the driver searched for the address. Milo’s wave went unheeded. Finally, the rig pulled up and a sleepy-looking driver around nineteen got out.

“In there, the Toyota,” Milo told him. “Consider it a crime scene and take it directly to the forensics garage.”

The driver rubbed his eyes and shuffled paper. “Them wasn’t my orders.”

“Them is now.” Milo handed him gloves. The driver slipped them on and slouched toward the little car’s driver’s door.

Milo said, “There’s a snow globe on the seat. It’s evidence.”

“A wha?”

“One of those doohickeys that snows when you turn it upside down.”

The driver looked baffled. Opened the door and drew out the globe. Upending the toy, he watched plastic flakes flutter. Peered at the writing at the base and wrinkled his brow.

Milo gloved up, snatched it away, and dropped it in an evidence bag. His face was flushed.

The driver said, “I’m supposed to take that in?”