the Forgotten Man (2005) (33 page)

The "three" identified her as being from Hollywood. "Whiskey" told them she was a detective. The "twelve" was her car number.

"Ah, I need a patch to the Sheriffs Department Substation in Canyon Camino."

"Stand by, six-whiskey-twelve."

While Starkey was busy with the radio, Pike called Cole's cell number. Pike phoned it three times, but never once got through. By the time Starkey had the patch, they were passing Van Nuys Airport, twenty-six minutes away from George Reinnike's home.

Chapter 57

Frederick T he sheriff changed everything. He could have radioed that Frederick's truck was at Payne's, or told Biggins he was stopping at the house, or called in more police. Frederick's mind raced with the changing plans. He felt certain that Cole wouldn't approach with a patrol car out front, and Frederick wanted to get quickly away. Also, if the police found Rossi's vehicle, they might roadblock the area and stop Frederick's escape. He fought the urge to run. He loaded Rossi's body into the back seat, then drove the patrol car behind Payne's cabin and into the trees. He drove as far as he could, then huffed back to the house. He piled into his truck.

Frederick wept as he drove. He missed Payne, and he wanted to punish Cole, but now he realized he had to leave and vengeance would never be his. Maybe if he got away. Maybe in a few years. He knew where Cole lived. He knew where he worked. Maybe in a few years.

Frederick heard a voice as he entered his trailer, but it was Elroy, leaving a message.

"- call me back, goddamnit. The L. A. police are coming up to talk to us, and I don't know what in hell's -"

Frederick scooped up the phone.

"Elroy, it's me. Why do they want to talk to us?"

"Goddamnit, why haven't you called me back? I got -"

"I been so upset about Payne I didn't know what to say."

Elroy calmed down. Even Elroy could understand grief.

He said, "Payne ever say anything to you about going to Los Angeles?"

"Not me."

"Well, that's what they're asking about. The sheriff was here. He said some police are coming up from Los Angeles, and they want to know why he went down there. He said Payne's name wasn't really Payne. Did he get over there to talk to you?"

"He called. I just got off the phone."

"I'm closing this damned station. I don't know what else to do."

"Okay."

"That private detective get over there yet?"

"Good-bye, Elroy."

Frederick put the phone softly in its cradle. His eyes felt like they were swelling. They filled with a tremendous pressure and felt like they would explode. Cole knew who he was. Cole was coming right here to his house. Frederick felt trapped. They were being punished just like Payne always said. Frederick sobbed, then remembered Juanita. He wasn't done yet. He might be able to get the jump on Cole, and still get away.

Frederick got together the cash he had taken from the station, then locked his trailer and took the shotgun from his truck. He hurried across the courtyard to Juanita's double-wide. It was midafternoon, so Frederick knew she was taking her nap. Juanita woke at three or four every morning with the night terrors, then nodded out again after lunch. That's the way it was with old people. Sad.

The two little girls were playing on the far side of the motor court. He called out to them, and waved. They ran as soon as they saw him, which is exactly what he wanted.

Frederick went to Juanita's door, but didn't knock - he twisted her door handle and shoved through the cheap aluminum frame. Juanita woke with a start, but Frederick shut the door fast, and smiled.

Juanita, still foggy with sleep, said, "Frederick?"

Frederick took care of her, then settled into the shadows just as two cars turned in from the road.

Chapter 58

H igh Mountain Communities was an older mobile home park with single- and double-wide mobile homes set among the trees. It had probably been a nice place to live at one time, but now it had the feel of an outdated summer camp with declining enrollment. Some of the mobile homes were well maintained, but others were grimy with stains. Frederick Conrad lived in Number 14, at the rear of the park. Diaz followed me in her Passat. We crunched past the central motor court, watching the numbers until I found #14. Conrad's mobile home was clean, nicely maintained, and quiet. The entire mobile-home park was quiet.

I parked beside an F-150 pickup truck, and Diaz pulled up beside me. We got out of our cars at the same time, glancing over the surroundings. Her eyes were dark, like two polished black stones.

She said, "His son's going to be up here. If he isn't here now, he was. He was never far from his son."

"Let's take it easy. We don't know this guy is him."

Two little girls appeared across the motor court. They bubbled out of a pale green mobile home, the smaller of the two trying to keep up with her older sister. The older girl said something I could not understand, and the younger one loudly told her to wait. The older girl ran around the far end of their home, laughing. Her younger sister laughed as she followed. Diaz stared after them.

I said, "Diaz?"

She turned back, and touched the locket that swung in the hollow of her neck.

"I'm good. Let's see what he has to say."

We approached Frederick Conrad's door. Diaz walked with her hand on her gun under her jacket.

I knocked on the door, then knocked harder, and called out.

"Mr. Conrad?"

No one answered.

Diaz slammed her palm on the trailer.

"Fucking prick."

"Take it easy."

The truck was parked like it belonged with his trailer. I went over to the truck. The engine ticked, but the ticking was slow, as if it had been parked for a while. The two little girls had disappeared. Everything was so quiet it left me feeling creepy.

Diaz said, "Let's talk to his neighbors."

An older Dodge sedan was parked in front of the mobile home closest to Conrad's, suggesting the mobile home might be occupied. The mobile home's door was closed and drapes covered the windows, but all the other mobile homes were closed the same way. I followed Diaz across the gravel, wondering if these people were vampires.

All you can do is knock.

Frederick Juanita liked it dark. She kept the lights off and the drapes pulled so prowlers and rapists couldn't spy on her. Frederick always told her, oh, Juanita, that's silly, there aren't any prowlers around here, but Juanita would wave her hand like he was foolish, telling him she saw it on the news every night - murderers were everywhere! Now Frederick thought, thank you, Juanita.

Frederick stood in the broad daylight darkness within her mobile home, watching Cole and the woman pound on his trailer. This wasn't the same woman who had come to Cole's house, but she carried herself like a cop. She strutted.

They knew. It was clear to Frederick that they had identified him. He watched them stand on either side of his door as they knocked, and knew they intended to kill him.

If Cole had come alone, Frederick would have thrown open the door and cut loose with the shotgun. At this range, it would have been easy. But now Frederick hesitated. Taking two of them would be more difficult. He could get one for sure, but two...

As much as Frederick wanted to kill Cole, he hoped they would get into their cars and leave. If they left, he might still get away in Juanita's old Dodge, just get in that baby and ease down the hill, and head up to Bakersfield. Live to fight another day. Live to hunt down Cole on a better day.

Frederick heard Payne said, "That's my boy."

Payne had been a good father.

Cole and the woman turned away from Frederick's mobile home, and Frederick thought he was home free, but then they started toward Juanita's. Frederick held the shotgun so tightly that his forearms cramped.

Cole stepped around Juanita's Dodge and came toward the broken door.

Cole The Dodge sedan was silted with a thin layer of undisturbed dust. It probably hadn't been driven in at least a week, but for all I knew it hadn't been driven in years. If Conrad's neighbors used a second vehicle, they probably weren't even home.

I went up to the door and knocked.

"Hello?"

Diaz stood well to the side.

I knocked again, then turned to see if anyone had come out of the other trailers. I turned back to the door, and knocked again.

Diaz said, "I'll check the next trailer."

She moved away, and I knocked again at the door.

"I'm giving away money."

Humor.

Diaz said, "Hey, Cole."

I glanced over. She pursed her lips, then wet them, and I thought she was sad.

"I'm sorry."

I nodded.

The door's handle was bent and wilted. The entire mobile home looked wilted.

"Last chance."

I knocked for the last time.

Frederick A thin edge of light lay across Frederick's face like a scar as he held his breath. He stood to the side of the door, watching Cole and the woman through a break in the drapes. He heard Cole say her name. Diaz?

Her name rang a bell, but Frederick didn't have time to think about it; she told Cole she was going to check the next trailer, and then she turned away. They were separating, and now he could kill Cole!

Frederick flicked off the shotgun's safety, then eased forward, reaching for the handle.

She was walking away as Cole hammered at the door.

Thank you, Juanita.

Frederick touched the bent and broken handle with his fingertips, then heard the approaching sirens -

Cole Diaz and I heard the sirens at the same time. I turned away from the mobile home and took eight steps toward my car so that I could better see the street. Exactly eight; then I stopped.

Diaz said, "Goddamnit - that must be Pardy."

"I told you he was taking it to O'Loughlin."

Her face was creased with disgust when she turned back toward me, and I saw the moment when her eyes focused on something behind and beyond me.

I wish I could have been everything the articles made me out to be, and leaped into action to save us, but true crime and true cops are never that good. I didn't hear anything. I didn't see it coming. The blast kicked me down as if I had been broadsided by a car. I went down, and looked up, and saw Diaz with a perfect clarity as if my eyesight had grown inhumanly sharp. Her hand was under her jacket, reaching for her gun when she suddenly snapped backward against the old Dodge. A cluster of black grapes appeared below her breasts. Diaz staggered, but the vest had saved her and the Dodge held her up. She was still on her feet.

A man I did not know ran forward from the open door of the trailer. He was heavily built, but he moved quickly. He ran past me with a short black shotgun to his shoulder. Diaz brought up her gun, but the shotgun went off as she fired, and Diaz was knocked away.

The heavy man staggered sideways, looked down at himself, then looked at me. A red heart grew on his chest. He lifted the shotgun again, but now he wasn't moving so fast.

He screamed, "You killer!"

I was flat on my back, but I had my gun by then. I squeezed the trigger, and kept squeezing, pointing the gun up at him. He staggered in a circle as I shot him. I shot him until he fell, and kept shooting into the air up where he had been because I was too scared to do anything else, and never gave a thought where the bullets would hit or whom they might hurt. I kept shooting even after he fell.

"Diaz?"

I could see her feet, but she didn't answer me. She had fallen behind the Dodge.

"Diaz, answer me."

I tried to get up, but couldn't. I tried to roll over, but my body flared with an outrageous heat that made me scream. I touched myself, and my hand came away gloved in bright red.

I heard a little girl screaming, and thought it must be Kelly Diaz.

I said, "It's okay. I'm not your daddy."

Blood pulsed out over my fingers, and the trailer park dimmed. The last thing I saw was David Reinnike climb to his feet. He raised up from the dead, climbed to his feet, and picked up the shotgun. I tried to raise my gun again, but it was too heavy. I pulled the trigger anyway, but it only made clicking sounds. David Reinnike stood over me, weaving unsteadily from side to side. His red shirt glistened brightly in the pure California sun. He lifted the shotgun, and pointed it at my head. He was crying.

He said, "You took my father."

All the world fell, and then I was gone.

Chapter 59

Starkey S tarkey knew her nightmare was real when she got Biggins on the patch, midway between Van Nuys and Newhall. Biggins had checked out a tag number registered to one Frederick Conrad, a former employee of Payne Keller's, after the substation sheriff reported the vehicle at Keller's home. When the sheriff did not respond to Biggins's return call, Biggins had gone to Keller's home and discovered the body.

Starkey got directions to Conrad's mobile-home park on the fly, and called in the State Sheriffs herself. She didn't trust Biggins to do it. He seemed too upset.