“No. He was facedown when I took the gun. If he didn’t see the gun before I arrived, he wouldn’t have seen it after. The gun was in Mendoza’s pocket.”

Button glanced over at Futardo.

“Okay, let’s see the pictures.”

Futardo slipped a manila envelope from her jacket, and shook out several sheets.

“We’d like you to look at some booking photos. Each sheet—”

Button interrupted her.

“He knows what they are. He used to be one of us. Don’t forget that.”

Each sheet contained six color booking photos of adult males in their twenties and thirties, all of approximately the same size and weight. Because each sheet held six pictures, the sheets were called six-packs. Pike could tell by the tattoos that most were or had been members of Mendoza’s gang.

Pike identified Mendoza’s partner on the second sheet, middle of the bottom row.

“This one.”

Futardo cocked her head to see.

“Figures. Alberto Gomer.”

Button spiked her with a nasty glance that made her pale. She had made a rookie mistake by identifying a suspect by name to a witness, and Button would chew her out for it later. She wet her lips nervously before continuing.

“Will you sign a sworn affidavit so stating, and testify to that effect under oath in open court?”

“Yes.”

Futardo took a pen from her jacket, and held out the sheet and the pen. Her fingers shook.

“Circle the image you are now identifying as the man you saw assault Mr. Wilson Smith on this date and sign it.”

Pike circled and signed. Button hadn’t been a bad guy when Pike knew him, but now he came across as angry and mean. Pike thought he was probably an asshole to work with.

“Did Mr. Smith recognize him?”

Button snorted.

“None of these people looked familiar to Mr. Smith. Isn’t it funny how that works? Mr. Smith was not what we call a helpful witness.”

Futardo softened for the first time as she took back the pictures.

“He’s afraid.”

Button snorted again, and cued Futardo.

“Anything you want to ask, Detective?”

Futardo finished whatever she was writing, and looked back at Pike.

“Let’s back up to when you first saw Mendoza and his friend. What were you doing when you saw them?”

“Buying gas.”

“Uh-huh. And what were you doing in Venice?”

“Buying gas.”

“So you just happened to be there?”

“Where should I be?”

“Had you met Mr. Mendoza before this morning?”

Futardo was watching him closely, and Pike realized Button was watching him, too. As if they had been trying to get here from the beginning, and were intent on reading his reaction. They should have been asking about Wilson Smith and Reuben Mendoza, but they were asking Pike about Pike.

“Where are you going with this?”

“Wherever. Of all the people in L.A., it’s you over there kicking the shit out of this turd.”