Going to the Bad (24 page)

I drove to the roadblock where Freddy had said to meet. I quickly removed Bud's sweater so my logo shirt would be visible under my coat and got out.

Freddy's news van was still parked next to the sawhorses, but there was no sign of him or the officers who should have been stationed there. I heard a noise from inside the restricted area. Two Bakersfield PD cops were chasing someone. I couldn't see who the fugitive was, but then I heard, “Dude, I'm totally sorry.”

I jumped back in and drove the van up onto the curb. By the time I'd got around the sawhorses, the pursuit had turned into an alley. I stopped at the entrance and jumped out. I left the engine running and my door open, but I figured that inside a police barricade the van would be safe.

Down the alley, the officers had Freddy cornered at a Dumpster.

“Dude, you don't understand.” He was kneeling with his back to us.

The officers had their hands on their weapons, but hadn't drawn yet. “Put your hands where I can see them,” one of them instructed.

Freddy didn't obey. “But my dog is under the Dumpster.”

“Never mind,” I shouted. “Do what they say.”

The officers saw me and freaked out. Now two journalists were inside the restricted area.

“Freddy, stand up and turn around,” I said. “You're going to get yourself shot.”

He finally obeyed. “He's totally under there, but good luck getting him out.”

“Dog,” I called. Thing appeared from under the metal bin. He walked slowly, but with purpose, until he was standing right in front of me. His crooked face looked up and curled into a dog smile.

The officers had already called for backup. After a surprisingly short lecture, we were let go. I had the feeling that they were actually concerned for our safety. It helped that Freddy had the dog to prove his story that he'd only entered the restricted area chasing Thing.

We returned to my van. I'd let a lot of the heat escape by leaving my door open so I turned the heater up to full blast. I drove Freddy back to the other side of the sawhorses with instructions to return Thing to the station and contact Callum about the sludge story.

At the Sheriff's Department, I parked in the small lot where I'd picked up Rod yesterday. I remembered those first moments in the van, how grateful I was that he was safe.

I took a moment to call the hospital and check on Bud. Still no change. It wasn't a surprise, but that didn't make it easier to hear.

Because of the early hour, I had to walk to a side door near the rear, gated parking lot. I picked up a phone receiver mounted to the wall and gave my name and whom I was there to see. After several minutes of waiting I heard a noise. Through a thick glass window I watched a uniformed officer appear at the end of a long hallway and start toward me.

When the officer finally reached the other side of the door, he entered a code into a push pad, waited for a buzzing sound, and let me in.

He held the door while I passed inside. “If you'll follow me, Detective Lucero is waiting for you.”

The door swung shut with an intimidating thud. I followed him through a maze of fluorescent-lit hallways and corridors. After four or five turns and a flight of stairs, I realized I'd never be able to find my way out again.

We passed a man in handcuffs being led by another uniformed officer. The man looked up from his shackled feet. His eyes found me through strands of long, stringy hair, black with filth. “You're a tiny little slut.”

“If you're going to name your junk, you shouldn't say it outloud.”

He suddenly cut toward me. The officer escorting him was taken by surprise. His delay made it that much harder to rein the man in. I stayed back as both officers working together took the man down to the floor.

“You had to be a smart-ass.”

I turned and saw Lucero. I immediately relaxed. “Yeah, yeah. I say stuff I shouldn't, blah, blah, blah.”

He smiled at me, then looked at the officer. “Thanks for bringing her in. I got it from here.”

“Come on.” He led the way toward the end of the hall.

We reached a door and he held it open for me. “Thanks for coming, Lilly.”

“Are you kidding? I'm the one who's thankful that you're helping me.” I entered the room and stopped short.

Handsome Homicide sat behind an industrial metal table. That wasn't even the worst. Lucero had brought me to an interrogation room.

Christmas Day, 6:05 a.m.

M
y head spun around just in time to see Lucero shut
the door behind us. “What is this?”

“We'd like to ask you a few questions.” Handsome gestured to a single chair placed opposite him. “Would you please take a seat?”

“No.” I walked around Lucero and reached for the door.

Handsome didn't get up. He didn't even lean forward. “I understand you're afraid the same person who shot your uncle may be after your boyfriend. If that's true, then you walk out of here and he's as good as dead.”

I turned back. “Is junior-high bully your only interview technique? I'm starting to think terrifying people is all you're good for.”

“He put it a little bit strong,” Lucero said in sympathetic tones. “But the basic sentiment is true. Let us help you.”

“I'm surprised you haven't already left,” I said to him. “You did your job and got me here.”

Lucero started to say something, but Handsome cut him off.

“I've agreed to let Detective Lucero sit in on our interview.” Handsome and Lucero exchanged a look. It wasn't exactly hostile, but it wasn't friendly either. “I can bring in a female officer if you'd prefer that.”

“No, I would not.” I turned to Lucero. “I came here to speak with you. Get him out of here.”

“My hands are tied. It's his case.”

Even I had to see the truth in that. Lucero wasn't even a homicide detective.

Lucero must have sensed I was weakening. “Tell us both what
you know and we'll help you. That's everyone's goal here. What could be more important than Rod's safety?”

Nothing, of course. I reluctantly took the seat opposite Handsome. I figured I'd play this out as far as I could without implicating Rod or Bud in anything illegal.

Lucero leaned against the back wall since there was no third chair.

“This interview is being video-recorded,” Handsome said. “Do you consent to that?”

I unzipped my jacket. “No.”

He scowled and got up. After being gone for a few moments he returned and sat back down. “Will you say and spell your name for me.”

He took notes on a laptop while I answered basic questions such as my Social Security number and age. Then he started in on Rod's relationship to Bud, Bud's history of small-time offenses, and what scams or deals Bud might currently be involved with.

Finally I lost my temper. “You haven't asked me a single question about Rod being missing. All you care about is trying to nail my dying uncle with some kind of trumped-up charge.”

Handsome turned the laptop so we could all see it. After a few clicks, a piece of grainy video began playing without sound. At first I didn't know what I was looking at. That's when the backhoe burst into view. Glass shattered and wood splintered. Almost as quickly as it appeared, the machine backed up. It only got a few feet before the snarl of debris forced it to stop.

“Is this Pawn Max last night?”

Handsome turned. “You know about that, do you?”

I didn't answer. Instead I watched as two men in black entered through the hole left by the backhoe. They even wore ski masks to hide their faces. One smashed jewelry cases and threw the contents in his bag while the other hurried behind the counter.

Handsome pointed to this second man. “He's taking the records.”

He was right. As soon as the man had the binder in his bag, they both left.

Handsome stopped the video. He pointed and clicked a few times and brought up a still image. “This is a blowup of the second man's arm as he reaches under the counter.”

A small section of wrist was visible between the man's black sleeve and glove. He appeared to be wearing a watch.

“And?” I said.

Handsome clicked again and zoomed in closer. That's when I realized it wasn't a watch. It was a tattoo of a watch. I'd only ever met one man with that design inked on his wrist. Bud Hawkins.

This was unnerving, but I still managed to say, “I have no idea what I'm looking at. It could be anything.”

“It's your uncle, and you know it.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “This grainy, blurry image will never hold up in court.”

“It won't have to since he's not going to live long enough to be charged with felony burglary.”

Lucero pushed off from the wall. “A little respect for her loss.”

Handsome gave him a dirty look, but downshifted from mean to merely hostile. “Let's say for the sake of argument that I've identified suspect number two as one Bud Hawkins.”

I didn't say anything, but by not denying it, we all knew I was agreeing.

He clicked a box and the original video returned. “My first question has to be, who is suspect number one? Who's helping him?”

Handsome's head turned from the monitor. His eyes stared into mine with an intensity that both challenged and accused.

“It wasn't me.” I pointed to the monitor. “That guy is both slower and taller than I am.”

Lucero laughed. “That describes the entire male population of Bakersfield.”

Handsome ignored the joke. “I know it's not you. I can tell the difference between a man and a woman.”

“Glad to know the Sheriff's Department is training you for that. Is there a special remedial class or did they get you a tutor?”

Lucero walked to the table and sat on the edge. “Remember that thing we talked about in the hall. You know, where you say things you shouldn't, and the blah, blah, blah.” He smiled, but his height relative to mine felt intimidating. “Maybe try and control that.”

I stood. “That was the controlled version.”

Handsome followed me up. “Where was your boyfriend last night?”

“In LA. He drove back early yesterday morning.” Then I got it and had to laugh. “No way Roddy helped Bud drive a backhoe into a pawnshop. You are so off base.”

Handsome didn't let up. “You and your boyfriend are up to your necks in something with your sleazy uncle, and we're not leaving here until you tell me what it is.”

Lucero continued his role as good cop. “I understand how you might have felt obligated if your uncle got into trouble and asked for help. Blood is thicker than water and all that.”

“Or maybe it was the other way around,” Handsome countered. “Maybe you're the one who asked your uncle for help. Is all this some news story that got out of hand?”

“We don't drive construction equipment into buildings.” I smiled. “It's not even a ratings period.”

“Fine, Lilly,” Lucero said. “We're totally off base and chasing our tails.”

Handsome didn't like the sound of that, but he managed to stay quiet.

“But you're obviously sitting on a bunch of information. If you're truly worried about Rod, then you need to start sharing. Otherwise this will end badly.”

They didn't seem to have any idea about Carter King and Warner's stolen brooches. For a moment I thought about telling them everything, even about Kincaid and the meth.

“I know you sent officers to interview the owner of Pawn Max,” I said. “I know she told them Bud was very upset when he saw a certain piece of jewelry in the store.” I pointed to the monitor. “I suggest you find out who pawned the brooch and talk to them.”

Handsome bristled. “I intend to interview that individual later today.”

“Good.” I waited for him to add something more, but he only stared at me. “So what are you going to do about Rod?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Handsome shook his head. “By your own words, he's only been gone for a few hours and there's no sign of violence at his house.”

Lucero tried to intervene. “Maybe we should—”

Handsome cut him off. “You know what I think happened? I think he's gotten sick of being your adorable, half-grown German shepherd puppy and left you.”

I turned to Lucero. “Get me out of here right now before you have to arrest me for assaulting an officer.”

Handsome protested, but Lucero could tell I was serious. As he walked me back out the maze of corridors, I thought about the video from the pawnshop break-in.

It couldn't have been Rod. Years spent as a wimpy teenager getting picked on for his geeky hobbies had left him with a passion for physical fitness. He rarely skipped his daily trip to the gym. If Rod had been the first man in the video, he would have been notably faster and stronger than Bud.

Which gave me an idea. The two figures had been fairly well matched. Was the second man as old as Bud?

What other friends his own age did Bud have? Mrs. Paik's husband—Bud's loyal comrade through war and fighting fires—had disappeared fifty years ago. Leland Warner was in bed with a heart condition.

That's when I remembered Carter King. He'd have to be roughly Bud's age. Given his history, he'd have no moral scruples
about robbing a pawnshop. Had he and Bud partnered to discover who'd pawned the brooch?

Or had they partnered long before that? Was that the nasty truth Rod was attempting to shield me from? Had Bud conspired with Carter King to steal Erabelle's jewelry?

I started the news van and did a U-turn with the intention of returning to Rod's house. I passed a pickup just cranking its engine. I almost slammed on the brakes, but managed to control myself.

I got to the light and made a right over the train tracks. I saw a pair of headlights follow in my rearview mirror. What if Bud's attacker was inside the vehicle, or maybe Carter King? They could be one and the same.