Dana's street was well lit in a small-town way, with gold light softening the cheap stucco buildings to make everything seem nicer than it was. Cars lined both curbs like too many puppies crowding their mother. It was after eleven as I crept past Dana's building; the neighborhood had settled for the night.

Pike's Jeep was blocking a drive two buildings beyond Dana's. Pike was a motionless black smudge masked by black shadows. His window was down.

Pike's low voice came quietly from the darkness.

"I couldn't tell if they're home. The drapes are pulled and everything's quiet."

"You could've kicked in the door."

"Waiting for you."

"Okay. Let's see."

I told Pike how I wanted to play it, then walked down the drive to Dana's apartment. Behind me, Pike slipped from the Jeep. The interior light did not come on when his door opened.

I went to Dana's door, listened, then rang the bell. Her apartment was dark. The windows were cheap aluminum sliders with spring-loaded handles serving as clip locks. I tried to slide the glass, but the latches held firm. I padded the muzzle of my gun with my handkerchief, pressed the muzzle to the glass alongside the handle, then smacked the butt hard with the heel of my hand. The muzzle popped through the glass, leaving a jagged hole the size of a tennis ball. I opened the window, hoisted myself inside, then closed the drapes.

"Hello?"

I flipped on the lights, then checked the bedroom and bath to be sure no one was hidden. Like lying, people often hide, and then you don't see them coming. It can ruin your whole day.

When I visited their apartment two days ago, a camera with a big lens was on the dining room table beside the computer. Now, the camera was gone. The desk was cluttered with papers, a cordless phone, and dust bunnies, but a clean new LAPD business card stood out. Detective Jeff Pardy. I smiled when I saw the card. Pardy might be a flathead, but he was doing his job. It made me feel better about him.

I went back to the living room, sat on the couch, and waited. It was eleven twenty-six when I started waiting. At twelve-seventeen, voices approached. I went back to the dining room, turned the chair to face the front door, and made myself comfortable.

A key ground into the deadbolt lock.

Outside, Dana said, "But I turned off the lights."

Thomas stepped inside, not seeing me because he was looking at Dana. He was carrying the camera. He didn't see me until Dana stepped inside past him, but by then it was too late.

Thomas said, "You -"

Pike came in behind Thomas fast, and hooked his left arm tight around Thomas's neck. He turned Thomas's right hand high behind his back and lifted him inside. Thomas made a gurgling sound, and the camera hit the floor with a clunk.