“The limo probably dropped off Azzara and Rainey and the veterano. They found this mess and split. The Tercel’s still here, so Rainey went with Azzara.”

Cole didn’t seem convinced.

“We don’t know anything, Joe. Maybe they never came back. Maybe they’re having lunch at the beach. Maybe Rainey went with the veterano.”

Pike knew Cole was right, but his last best chance was Azzara. Azzara knew what happened here, and Azzara might know how to find Dru.

Cole turned away from the body.

“What do you want to do?”

“Call the police. We’ll find Azzara faster with the police.”

They called Button from the house. Cole sketched out the bare bones about William Allan Rainey and Rose Marie Platt, and told Button they would give him the rest when he arrived. Button took it pretty well except for one brief exchange.

Cole said, “Because we only found this out an hour ago, Button. Stop wasting time, and come see for yourself.”

Pike said, “Hang up.”

They waited at Pike’s Jeep for the police to arrive. They did not want to be in the house when the first uniforms got bug-eyed by the blood and the bodies.

The passing time felt like ants marching through Pike’s veins. Cole spoke once or twice during the time they were waiting, but Pike did not answer. He was thinking about Dru, and why she had called him for help.

Chapter 37

37

Daniel

Daniel took the woman’s phone, rolled her onto her belly, and taped her hands behind her back. Great thing about stealing a rooter-dude van, it was filled with usable stuff. Duct tape, rope, wire. Plenty of things that cut.

The woman did not speak to him or look at him, which was fine by Daniel. When her wrists were secure, he flipped her over and taped her mouth, a big silver rectangle that made her look like a robot. He liked her better that way.

They were on Wilshire Boulevard, in a parking lot across from the La Brea Tar Pits. Daniel liked the dying mammoth. There was this huge statue of a mammoth stuck in the tar like it was being sucked down to its death. Daniel enjoyed thinking about the big sonofabitch drownin’ in tar. He wondered if the heat killed it first, maybe boilin’ it to death before it drowned. That would be even better.

The satellite phone rang as he climbed into the front seat. The Bolivian. Daniel answered in his most professional, ass-slurping voice.

“This is Daniel. Do we have anything on the tag?”

Instead of answering Daniel’s question, the fuckin’ Bolivian launched into meaningless shit that ended with the inevitable question.