He watched as she swallowed hard, her fingers curling tight over the seat belt. She was finally nervous. Good. Bentz kept his hands steady on the wheel, determined to pin her down.

“How did you know Ramona Salazar?” he asked.

“Who?”

“The last registered owner of this car. How do you know her? How did you get this damned vehicle?”

“It was a gift.”

“From whom?”

“A friend.”

He snapped out of the fantasy. “Don’t do this, okay? No more games. I only agreed to come here with you if you’d talk to me, tell me what was going on, and now you’re talking in circles and riddles. Oh, hell, forget it.” He dug out his cell phone and speed-dialed Hayes.

“No, don’t!” she cried.

“Too late.”

Her lips twisted and she shook her head. “Who are you calling?”

“Who do you think?”

“The police.”

“Bingo!”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, right.” He put the phone to his ear and waited.

Hayes answered on the third ring. “Hayes.”

“It’s Bentz. I’ve got our girl.”

“What?” Hayes asked. “Who?”

“Jennifer. She and I are heading down the coast. To Point Fermin.”

“Why the hell are you going there?”

“Just meet us there.”

“Wait a second, what is this? What the hell’s going on?”

But Bentz clicked off and smiled coldly at the woman. “Better get your story straight, Jennifer. You’ve got a helluva lot of explaining to do.”

CHAPTER 28

“Hold on!” Hayes said, pressing on the earbud of his cell phone. He’d been on his way to interview Tally White when he’d caught the call. “Meet you at Point Fermin? You mean on the peninsula?” But Bentz had already hung up. Hayes tried to call him back, but the son of a bitch wouldn’t answer.

“Jerk!” Sometimes he wondered why he still had Bentz’s back. Bledsoe was right; the guy was a loose cannon.

Hayes made a quick U-turn and received a horn blast from a woman in a gold Mercedes, followed by a quick middle finger from a kid in baseball cap driving a lowrider pickup.

He threaded through traffic on his way to the 110 and San Pedro near Point Fermin, far to the south of the city.

What was Bentz up to, calling in with such disjointed information? Bentz thought he was with Jennifer? That was just plain nuts.

Which would be proved in just a few hours when her remains were exhumed.

But maybe Bentz hadn’t been able to say what he’d really meant, Hayes thought, running an amber light as he maneuvered his Toyota toward the freeway entrance. He called for backup, though he wasn’t sure it was necessary.

“Martinez,” she answered.

“Hey. I might need assistance. Not sure yet.” He filled her in and his partner let out a low whistle.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I’m starting to think that Bledsoe’s right. Bentz has gone loco.”