A tow truck was approaching westbound. It slowed, its front bumper announcing that SHIT HAPPENS. It stopped in front of the tipped van and pulled onto the shoulder of the freeway. The driver got out—a skinny kid with lots of moles, wearing a ponytail and an earring. He released the cable pulley from the tail of the truck. Decker came over to him and the kid took a step backward. Being big, Decker was conscious of the way he made most men feel. Some deferred, others got belligerent. This guy was a deferrer. The name tag on his shirt said Rich in red scroll.

Decker held up his hands—a gesture he did on purpose to help guys like this one relax. “Who told you to tow the truck?”

The kid looked down. “My boss. If there’s a problem, I’ll wait.”

“You work for the rental company, Rich?”

“Yes, sir. My boss told me the HP called and told them to get the van off the freeway.”

Officer Rachel Parks walked over and joined them. “No leads,” she reported. “We all done here?”

“I suppose so.” Decker turned to Rich. “You get a lot of abandoned rentals?”

“Yep, but they’re usually not left on a freeway.” Rich picked at his ear. “You see, people’ll rent the car under a false name and ID. Then you see, they’ll use the car for a day or two. Then they’ll just leave the suckers flat, you see. Use the car without paying…or even use the car for like a robbery or a drug deal. Lots of drug dealers use rented cars to transport their shit—er, stuff. I once towed this bitchen Porsche. Man, it had more residue powder than Mammoth after a ten-foot snowfall.”

Rachel turned to Decker, “Does this woman have a criminal record?”

Decker said, “I didn’t think so.”

Rich said, “So I can take the car, now?”

Decker nodded.

Rich looked at the lopsided van. “I’ll just hook it on up and inflate the tires. Easier than changing them.”

“Do me a favor, Rich. Check out the tires when you get the van back to the rental lot. I want to know what caused them to go flat.” Decker heard his name being patched over the unmarked’s radio. “Excuse me.” He picked up the mike. It was Marge.

“I need you, pronto. I just got a call from Orit Bar Lulu. Her husband was driving her home from the hospital. They stopped by the Yaloms’ house. Why she wanted to do that is anyone’s guess. But the upshot is, the place was ransacked.”

“Good grief!”

“Someone was looking for something, Pete. Maybe the junior Yaloms are still in town. Maybe it was Gold.”

“Are any cars missing?”

“That I don’t know. I’d go right now, but one of us should stick around for Chuck’s info on the bodies.”