“You didn’t care!” Decker yelled. “All you wanted was Luke out of the way so you could have Linda.”

“I loved her,” Byron wailed out. Then he buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

“Right,” Decker whispered to himself. What was the point of telling him that Linda had wanted only his sperm? That Linda probably went to him for the gun because she knew that if the gun were ever traced back to the Howards, old lovesick Byron would have gone to jail before condemning his former lover. People using other people. Decker tried to muster up some indignation, but his self-righteousness felt hollow and flat.

And in the background all Decker heard was the pathetic cry of Linda, Linda, Linda.

30

Horses from Griffith Park had got loose, were galloping in and out of traffic. The Golden State Freeway was closed off until they could be rounded up and trailered. All lanes were being detoured to surface streets. Horns blared as cars, trucks, and semis ground to a halt. After a half hour, the unmarked’s air-conditioning keeled over and died. Marge sneaked a sidelong glance at Decker. He seemed placid, but she still felt bad about dragging him out on his day off.

“Sorry about this,” she said.

“Not your fault,” Decker answered.

“Not a great way to spend your free time.”

“You’re right about that,” Decker said. But his voice was light.

He was in a fine mood despite traffic. His last phone conversation with Rina had been wonderful. Once again, she assured him that Abel hadn’t come between them, that she’d even forgiven Abel for what he’d done. Anybody that desperate doesn’t deserve hatred, she’d remarked sadly. She’d also felt good about her judgment. Something deep inside had told her he hadn’t any intention of hurting her. She’d been glad she’d listened to her intuition. Decker felt her resolution with Abel was gratifying, but what had been most rewarding about the conversation was the love she’d expressed for him. They were destined for each other. It was basheert—fate. She’d known that the minute she had laid eyes on him. It had just taken her time to admit it to herself.

Just thinking of her words gave him a lump in his throat. He peered out the side window at the multicolored metal ribbon in front of him. “Screw this, Margie. Ride on the shoulder and let’s get out of here.”

She did just that until she was stopped by a Highway Patrol car. They flashed the CHP officer their gold badges and told him they’d just been patched to an emergency call. The chippy was a young buck, anxious to do a good job. With a very serious look on his face, he escorted them to the next available off-ramp.

After they’d exited, they both laughed.