Pike knew Cole was somewhere on the slope below. He could hear Cole pushing through the brush, and the clatter of sliding rocks as he worked sideways across the hill. Pike had seen Vincent moving downhill, so searching downhill was the smart bet, but Pike decided to lag back in case Vincent doubled back.

Pike let Cole move farther away. The farther Cole moved, the quieter it became, and quiet was good.

Pike listened for almost a minute before he heard a pebble dance through the trees on the slope somewhere in front of him. A soft cough followed the pebble.

Pike eased between the trees, and found Vincent in the rocks behind two dying walnut trees less than twenty yards from the road. Pike thought he was dead, but Vincent moved, then slowly struggled to his feet. Vincent was thin, but built strong, with a lean face and pockmarks and circles under his eyes. He didn’t look crazy, but what kind of person tortures and kills for lunatic drug traffickers?

Pike saw that Vincent was holding a gun, but waited to see what he would do. The man had a chest wound, but it was low and to the side. Pike had seen men fight on and win with their bodies turned inside out.

Then Vincent saw him, and his eyes sharpened like a couple of tacks.

“Look at this, boys. We got him.”

Pike wondered who he was talking to.

“You Pike?”

Pike nodded.

“Wasn’t you shot me. That other guy. You wanna call me an ambulance?”

“No.”

“No? I’m bleedin’ here, man. Get me some help.”

Pike shook his head.

Vincent stared for a moment. He hadn’t wanted the ambulance, and would have left before it arrived. He had hoped to catch Pike reaching for his phone or making the call. He wanted the edge.

Vincent said, “You never answered my question.”

“What question was that?”

“Down south. You think we faced off before?”

“No.”

“How you know that for sure?”

“You’d be dead.”

“That’s funny. The boys told me the same thing about you.”

Pike said, “Who are you talking about?”

Vincent brought up his gun. Vincent was fast, but didn’t quite make it.

Pike shot him three times in the chest, a tight little group the size of a clover. Pike walked over, picked up his gun, then shouted for Cole.

“He’s down. Higher than you, twenty yards in from the road.”

Pike searched the body before putting away his .357.

Cole called from below.

“You good?”

“Good. I’m going to Dru.”

Dru. Pike said her real name, quietly and to himself.

“Rose.”

Pike jogged back across Mulholland, and found Rose Platt squatting beside Rainey. He tried to understand what he felt about her, but he mostly felt nothing.