“Ma’am?”

“He’s got another one.”

“Another truck?” said Milo. “It’s not registered.”

“It’s registered to me.”

“Then it’s your responsibility, not his.”

“Suppose so.”

“What kind?”

MacIntyre didn’t answer.

“Something happens,” said Milo, “the liability is yours. And if it’s registered, all I have to do is make a call.”

She twisted her mouth.

“If it’s not,” he said, “you’re in trouble.”

“Haven’t gotten around to it yet. It was Gilbert’s, I bought it from his widow.”

“What make?”

“Also a Ford.”

“Color?”

“Also black.”

“Where does Barnett keep it?”

“Somewhere in Santa Clarita and don’t ask me where ’cause I don’t know.”

“Auto-storage facility?”

“One of those customizer places. He’s having work done on it. Souping up the engine, big tires, you know— boy stuff. Don’t you think he’s entitled to have some boy fun?”

“Is he traveling alone?”

“You just said he had a girl.”

“Did you know it before I told you?” said Milo.

“He mentioned he had a friend, but that’s it, don’t know her name.”

“Never met her?”

“No, but she’s good for Barnett and that’s all I care about.”

“How do you know she’s good for him?”

“He’s started getting a little happy.”

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 44

We headed back to the road and Milo did another BOLO check as I started up the Seville. Shook his head. “Now I’m manhandling crones.”

“She’ll survive.”

“Thanks for the support,” he said. “Where’s your sensitive side?”

“Dormant. Want me to head over to Santa Clarita, find the garage that worked on Barnett’s other truck?”

“Too much work for too little payoff. Malley and Cherish are already out on the open road. The question is which road.”

“There’s also the matter of Cherish’s Toyota.”

“You think they’re traveling separately? You heard MacIntyre. Barnett’s happy.”

“It would take more than romance to bring joy into his life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe he refused to cooperate with you because he had his own plan. The word ‘closure’ should be dropped from the English language, but a guy in his position might figure getting some sort of satisfaction could ease his pain. And Cherish could help him.”

“Payback,” he said.

“That’s another word for it.”

* * *

By the time I made it back to the Valley, the sun was starting to drop. I drove straight to the park where Kristal Malley had been murdered, hoping for simple bloody symmetry. Instead of Drew’s body we found only a scrubby, sad space pocked with trash.

Milo had his little penlight out and he washed the skinny beam over the same public lavatories described in Sue Kramer’s police report, the same Dumpster, now reeking of waste.

The same swings, where a pair of young killers had sat smoking and drinking beer.