As he disconnected, Madigan said to Harutyun, “I want you to find Edwin. Bring him in. I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing. I need to talk to him. Now.”

“Arrest him?”

“No. Make it seem like it’d be good for him to come in. In his interest, you know.”

Dance heard a harsh exhalation as Madigan regarded her expression. “What? You don’t think that’s a good idea?”

She said, “No, I don’t. I’d vote for surveillance.”

Madigan squinted toward Harutyun. “Do it.”

“Sure, Chief.” Harutyun climbed into his cruiser and left, without a word to Dance.

No, she decided; the deputy hadn’t looked at the verses to Kayleigh’s song.

Madigan strode back to his car, his round belly swaying, as he looked over the scene. He grunted, “Crystal. Listen, I need you to come with me. Have a talk about something in my cruiser. We’ll pick yours up later.”

The woman dutifully climbed into the passenger seat of Madigan’s cruiser. A moment later they were headed out onto the highway, without a word of farewell to Dance.

No matter.

She fished for her keys and turned toward her SUV. She stopped, closed her eyes briefly in frustration and gave a sharp, bitter laugh. Crystal Stanning’s squad car was tight on the rear bumper of Dance’s Pathfinder. In front was a carport full of junk. A V-8 engine block, weighing in at half a ton, she guessed, sat six inches in front of her SUV.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter 13

AT THE FRESNO-MADERA Consolidated Sheriff’s Office complex, P. K. Madigan stopped by the Crime Scene Unit, a block away, after returning from Bobby Prescott’s trailer.

He wanted to urge the unit to make this case a priority, which of course they’d do. Anything for Kayleigh Towne, the girl who’d helped put Fresno on the map.

And anything for Chief Madigan too.

But he was only half thinking about pep rallies. He also pictured Kathryn Dance.

Thinking about her beached car. Some people you needed to hit over the head to deliver a message. He’d send Crystal back in an hour or two, spring the gal from her automotive jail. Oh, sorry Kathryn; I didn’t know you’d be stuck between a rock and hard place—ha!

But he’d simply had it with people using Kayleigh like Dance was.

If Kayleigh hadn’t been involved, the likes of Kathryn Dance would never have come to Fresno, never have taken the time to even say howdy-do to a soul here. Where was Ms. Agent Dance and the CBI when some MS-13 wannabes took an Uzi and sprayed it into the pizza place on Herndon, killing two children and missing the rival drug dealer altogether?

Sorry, they weren’t celebrities.

He expected better from the CBI, thought they’d be above that publicity-grabbing shit. But Madigan had done his homework. He’d checked out Dance’s boss, Charlie Overby, on YouTube and the archives. Man was faster with a press conference than Wild Bill Hickok with a six-gun.