‘You ever been to Runyon Canyon Park?’

This time, he looked frustrated at the constant swerving, at the lack of any sort of explanation. ‘Never been there in my life,’ he said, his voice tight. ‘Not even once.’

At the table, Valeria was starting to look pale, clearly worried that her son had got himself into some sort of trouble; but there was anger as well, as palpable as the heat in the living room, her eyes narrowed and brow creased. She was ready to defend her son if it came to it, to fight for him. It was an instinct Jo identified with instantly.

I need to calm this down.

Jo raised the flat of her hand. ‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ she lied, trying to head things off. She had to be careful. If she pushed too hard, this was exactly the sort of thing that could end up on Hayesfield’s desk. ‘Basically, it appears as if Martina purchased a particularly strong batch of crack cocaine and suffered a heart attack as a result of it, and we’re still trying to locate the person who sold her those drugs last year.’ She watched to see if the lie would divert them away from the questions she’d asked. Both of them, Vale and his mother, seemed to slump, their faces smoothing out, the fire in their cheeks fading, and then the full horror of Martina’s death – her heart attack; the fact she’d become another statistic in the city’s crack epidemic – hit home, and they both seemed to deflate. Valeria leaned across the table. Vale collapsed into the couch.

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said, addressing the both of them, but keeping her gaze on Vale. He glanced at her, blinked again, and then sat up, wiping his eyes.

‘I guess finding out that she died in that way …’ he said quietly, embarrassed. And then his words dissolved – and a tear escaped, tracing a path along his cheek.

41

I looked at the clothes and the shoes in the second box.

The wallets. The purses.

The nine phones.

A heaviness settled on me, a sinking feeling that I couldn’t cast off as I realized what it meant: it was highly unlikely I was looking for nine missing people any more.

I was looking for nine dead bodies.

Deep down, I’d always feared that would be the case but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. I rubbed my eyes, the adrenalin washing out of me, the sorrow of a doomed search, and then – at the very periphery of my vision – I saw the other box of clothes that I’d already opened. Was it worse than I thought?

Were there even more missing people?