Peña moved with the disinterest of a tiger at the zoo, only his eyes sharp and focused. He took his place across from them, arms folded across his chest.

“Arturo, qué quieres?” Hernandez bent toward the speaker. “What do you want?”

Peña lowered his head at Rivas. “You’re late, pendejo.”

“I’m here now. What do you want?” Rivas said.

Hernandez leaned on the counter in front of the glass. “Don’t mess with us.”

Peña’s eyes didn’t leave Rivas. “You got lucky yesterday, viejo.”

“Arresting you?” Rivas said.

“No, I let you live.”

Hernandez hugged the briefcase against her chest. “What do you want, Arturo? The charges so far are drug possession, possession of an unregistered firearm, resisting arrest, and threatening a police officer.” She turned to Rivas. “And I understand the DA will file additional charges?”

Rivas nodded. “First-degree murder. Filed later today or tomorrow.”

“You understand this, Arturo?” Hernandez asked.

Peña ignored her. “El Viejo and I are talking.”

“Arturo, you asked to see Sergeant Rivas.” The lawyer sighed with exasperation. “What do you want? Do you have something to say?”

Peña unfolded his arms and spoke quietly. “The girl’s body you found. I know something about this.”

“What girl?” Rivas asked, sensing a trick.

“The one you found in the park.”

Rivas looked at Hernandez, who shrugged. He leaned closer to the divider. “What’re you talking about? This something to do with the Sureños?”

“No. But I know how she got there.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I saw her.”

Rivas took a deep breath. “You waste our time, we can add charges. You understand? Your lawyer can tell you.”

Peña waved a hand dismissively. “I saw this girl before you found her. She was alive and with three boys—a whitey, an Asian, and a brown one. If this is worth something to you, we can talk about my cousin you arrested yesterday.”

“How do you know it was the girl in the park? We don’t have an identity. We haven’t issued a photo. It wasn’t even in the newspaper until today.”

“I tell you something. In her ear, she has a star, is that right?”

Rivas fell back in his seat.

Peña smiled. “Now you’re interested, aren’t you, viejo? And I know because this one, the girl I saw, she looked like she knew she was going to die.”

(ii)

(WEDNESDAY, 9:02 A.M.)

Frames sat across the table from Craig Lerner. The thirty-something owner of Lerner and Meier Creative Marketing wore a pressed white shirt, wool blazer with upturned collar, and jeans. A fashionable two-day stubble dirtied his chin. On the table in front of him, he pressed a tall Starbucks cup with his fingertips.