Pike waited until she put him on hold, then closed his phone. Believing Button would refuse to see him, Pike walked around the side of the station through the civilian parking lot, then hopped a low wall and went to the two-story parking structure where officers kept their cars. He didn’t like losing the time, but he didn’t have long to wait.

Fourteen minutes later, Button came out the rear of the station in a loose file of other detectives and uniformed officers on their way to their cars. He carried a briefcase with his jacket and tie over his opposite arm, and wore a light blue shirt with sweat rings under the arms. A small revolver was clipped to his belt.

Pike was behind a column when Button passed, angling toward a tan Toyota pickup. Button shifted his jacket from his right arm to his left, and was fishing for his keys when Pike stepped from behind the column.

“Button.”

Button lurched sideways at Pike’s appearance. He scrambled for his gun, dropping his briefcase and keys as he got hung up in his jacket.

Pike calmly raised his hands, showing his palms.

“We’re good.”

If Button was embarrassed by his reaction, he didn’t show it. He picked up his briefcase and keys, and continued toward his truck.

“This is an off-limits police parking area. Get out.”

“They were abducted.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Wilson Smith and Dru Rayne. They’re gone.”

Button unlocked the truck, and tossed his jacket and briefcase inside.

“They’re on their way to Oregon, man. And another thing—Straw is fucking livid, not that it matters a damn. Fucking self-important Fed. He probably hates you more than I do.”

“Reuben Mendoza and a second man who might have been Gomer were at their home at eight forty-five this morning. What time did Smith call?”

Button already had one leg in the truck, but now he backed out, squinting at Pike.

“How do you know he called me?”

“Hydeck. I was at Smith’s shop when you spoke with her. From there, I went to Smith’s house.”

“Is this for real?”

“They have a locked front gate you have to go through to enter the property. The kid next door saw Mendoza and another man going through the gate at eight forty-five. Jared Palmer. Talk to him.”

Pike saw the strain on Button’s face as he weighed his hatred of Pike against what he was hearing, as if he had to climb a wall before he could move forward. He finally walked over, leaving the Toyota’s door open.

“How’s the kid know Mendoza?”

“He doesn’t. I showed him this.”

Pike held out the snapshot. Button gave it a glance, but did not touch it.

“One to ten, how confident was he?”

“Ten.”

“He’s sure about the time?”