He walked out the front door and stood on the sidewalk. He thought about the police. Hydeck was a good officer, but this wasn’t the crime of the century. Button and Futardo would have issued paper on Alberto Gomer yesterday. They might or might not have visited his last known address, but if Gomer didn’t answer the door, they weren’t going to spend a lot of time on a simple assault case. They would kick it back to the patrol officers like Hydeck and McIntosh. Gomer’s picture would have been distributed at roll call along with the pictures and warrants of the rapists, murderers, pedophiles, and other dangerous criminals believed to be in the area. Hydeck and McIntosh would probably drop a word with the Venice bangers they knew, asking about the vandalism, and telling them it better not happen again, but that was as far as their investigation would go. They were too busy cleaning up after the rapists and murderers.

Pike scanned the buildings and cars and rooflines again. He waited for the feeling that he was being watched, but now he felt nothing and went back inside.

He looked at Wilson first, then Dru.

“This won’t happen again.”

Wilson scowled.

“What are you, a swami? How do you know it won’t happen again?”

“I’ll talk to them.”

Wilson leaned back on the stool as if Pike was no smarter than the asshats who came to the hospital.

“You know what? It’s over, all right? It’s done with, and we don’t know who did it, so let’s not make it worse.”

He waved toward Betsy.

“Between you and this one, I’m gonna wake up murdered.”

Betsy said, “Don’t be a jackass.”

Dru stared at Wilson with worried eyes, then turned away and went into the storage room. Pike followed her, and found her crying. She closed her eyes hard, then opened them, but the wet didn’t go away.

“He’s impossible. It’s been so hard, trying to make a go of this place, and now we have these people on top of everything else.”

She closed her eyes again, and raised a hand, stopping herself.

“I’m sorry.”

Pike touched her arm. One touch, then he lowered his hand.

“It will be fine.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for years.”

“This time is different.”