“Soon after we got there. I cared about Janie. We were both so screwed up, that was our bond. I guess I had a bad feeling about the party—about her just disappearing in the middle of all that commotion. I never really forgot about her. Years later, when I was in college and learned how to use a computer, I tried to find her. Then after I got to law school and had access to legal databases, I tapped into all kinds of municipal records. California and the neighboring states. Property rolls, tax files, death notices. But she was nowhere—”

She picked up Milo’s card. “L.A. Homicide means she was murdered in L.A. So why wasn’t an L.A. death notice ever filed?”

“Good question, ma’am.”

“Oh,” said Waters. She sat back. “This is more than a reopened case, isn’t it? Something got really screwed up.”

Milo shrugged.

“Great. Wonderful. This is going to suck me in and screw me up no matter what I do, isn’t it?”

“I’ll do my best to prevent that, ma’am.”

“You sound almost sincere.” She rubbed her forehead, took a bottle of Advil out of a desk drawer, extricated a tablet, and swallowed it dry. “What else do you want from me?”

“The party,” said Milo. “How’d you and Janie hear about it, for starters.”

“Just street talk, kids talking. There was always plenty of that, especially as the weekend approached. Everyone trying to figure out the best way to party hearty. So many of us hated our homes, would do anything to be away. Janie and I were a twosome, party-wise. Sometimes we’d end up at squat-raves—promoters sneaking into an abandoned building, or using an outdoors spot—some remote corner of Griffith Park, or Hansen Dam. We’re talking bare minimum in terms of entertainment: some tone-deaf band playing for free, cheap munchies, lots of drugs. Mostly lots of drugs. Because the promoters were really dealers, and their main goal was bulk sales. Other times, though, it would turn out to be a real party, in someone’s house. An open invitation, or even if it wasn’t, there was usually no problem crashing.”

She smiled. “Occasionally, we got bounced, but a girl could almost always crash and get away with it.”

“The party that night was one of those,” said Milo. “Someone’s house.”