The Last Detective (15 page)

“I'm almost at the clearing.”

“He's flying up the ravine under the clouds. You have to pop a smoke for him, son. We cannot vector to your position, over.”

“Roger smoke.”

“This goddamned storm is rolling right at our gunships. They cannot reach you for support.”

“I understand.”

“You're on your own.”

Cole broke out of the jungle into the clearing. The dry creek was now filled with rushing water. Cole sloshed in up to his waist and waded across, fighting the current. His arms and legs felt dead, but then he was out of the water and on the other side. He rolled Abbott onto the high grass and looked for the helicopter. He thought he saw it, a black speck blurred by the rain. Cole pulled a smoke marker. Bright purple smoke swirled behind him.

The black speck tilted on its side and grew.

Cole sobbed.

They were coming to save him.

He dropped to his knees beside Abbott.

“Hang on, Roy; they're coming.”

Abbott opened his mouth and spit up blood.

Something flashed past Cole with a sharp whip-crack as the rattling hammer of an AK sounded in the tree line. Cole fell to his belly. Muzzle flashes danced in the green wall like fireflies. Mud splashed into his face.

Cole emptied his magazine at the flashes, jammed in another, and fired some more.

“Abbott!”

Abbott slowly rolled onto his belly. He dragged his weapon into the firing position and fired a single round.

The jungle sparkled. More and more flashes joined the first until the jungle was lit by twinkling lights. Mud hopped and jumped, and the tall stringy grass fell around Cole as if it were being mowed by invisible blades. He burned through his magazine in a single burst, packed in another, and burned through that one. His rifle's barrel was hot enough to sear flesh.

“Fire your weapon, Abbott!
FIRE!
”

Abbott fired once more.

Cole heard the blurring thump of the helicopter now.

He reloaded and fired. He was down to his last four-pack of magazines, but the trees were alive with enemy soldiers.

“Shoot, damnit!”

Abbott rolled onto his side. His voice was soft.

“I didn't think it would be like this.”

The helicopter was suddenly loud and the grass around them swirled. Cole shot at the flashes. Overhead, the 60-gunner opened up. His big .30-caliber weapon chewed at the jungle.

Cole rolled over as the heavy slick wobbled to the earth. It was pocked with bullet holes and trailing smoke. First Cavalry troops jammed the cargo bay like refugees. They added their fire to the 60-gun. The slick had been shot to hell, but still the pilot was bringing his ship through a thunderstorm and into a wall of gunfire. Slick pilots had steel balls.

“C'mon, Roy, let's go.”

Abbott did not move.

“Let's
go!
”

Cole slung his rifle, lifted Abbott, and lurched to his feet. Something hot ripped through his pants and then he felt a loud
spang!
A bullet shattered the radio. Cole stumbled to the helicopter and heaved Abbott into the bay. Cav troopers piled atop each other to make room.

Cole clambered aboard.

AK fire popped and pinged into the bulkhead.

The crew chief screamed at him.

“They told us it was only one guy!”

Cole's ears rang so loudly that he could not hear.

“What?”

“They told us there was just one man. We're too heavy. We can't take off!”

The turbine howled as the pilot tried to climb. The helicopter wallowed like a whale.

The crew chief grabbed Abbott's harness.

“Push him off! We can't fly!”

Cole leveled his M16 at the center of the crew chief's chest. The crew chief let go.

“He's
dead,
Ranger, push him off! You're going to get us killed!”

“He's coming with me.”

“We're too heavy!
We can't fly!
”

The turbine spooled louder. Oily smoke swirled through the door.

“Push him out!”

Cole wrapped his finger over the trigger. Rod and Fields and Johnson were gone, but Abbott was going home. Families take care of their own.

“He's coming with me.”

The Cav troops knew that Cole would pull the trigger. Rage and fear burned off the young Ranger like steam. He would do anything and kill anyone to complete his mission. The Cav troops understood. They pushed off ammo cans and rucksacks, anything they could shed to lighten the load.

The turbine shrieked. The rotor found hold in the thick humid air, and the helicopter lumbered into the sky. Cole lowered his weapon across Abbott's chest and protected his brother until they were home.

T
he thunderhead passed from the mountains four hours later. A reaction force comprised of Rangers from Cole's company assaulted the area to reclaim the bodies of their comrades. Specialist Fourth Class Elvis Cole was among them.

The bodies of Sgt. Luis Rodriguez and Sp4c Ted Fields were recovered. The body of Sp4c Cromwell Johnson was missing and presumed carried away by the enemy.

For his actions that day, Sp4c Elvis Cole was awarded the nation's third-highest decoration for bravery and valor, the Silver Star.

It was Cole's first decoration.

He would earn more.

Rangers don't leave Rangers behind.

14
            

time missing: 41 hours, 00 minutes

A
fter I spoke with the Abbotts, I phoned the other families to let them know that the police would be calling, and why. Between Master Sergeant Stivic and the families, I was on the phone for almost three hours.

Starkey rang my bell at eight forty-five. When I opened the door, John Chen was waiting behind her in his van.

I said, “I spoke with the families this morning. None of them had anything to do with this or know anyone who would. You get any hits on the other names I gave you?”

Starkey squinted at me. Her eyes were puffy, and her morning voice was thick with smoke.

She said, “Are you drunk?”

“I've been up all night. I spoke with the families. I listened to that damned tape a dozen times. Did you get any hits or not?”

“I told you last night, Cole. We ran the names and got nothing. You don't remember I said that?”

I felt irritated with myself for forgetting. She had told me when I was with them at the Hollywood station. I grabbed my keys and stepped outside past her.

“C'mon. I'll show you what we found. Maybe John can match the prints.”

“Lay off the coffee. You look like a meth freak about to implode.”

“You're no beauty yourself.”

“Fuck yourself, Cole. That might be because Gittamon and I got our asses reamed at six this morning by the Bureau commander, wanting to know why we're letting you fuck up our evidence.”

“Did Richard complain?”

“Rich assholes
always
complain. Here's the order of the day: You're gonna take us over to whatever this is you've found, then you're gonna stay out of our business. Never mind that you seem to be the only guy around here besides me who knows how to detect. You're out.”

“If I didn't know better, I'd think you just paid me a compliment.”

“Don't let it go to your head. It turns out Richard was right, you being a material witness. It just feels like kicking a guy when he's down, is all, shutting you out like this, and I don't like it.”

I felt bad for snapping at her.

She said, “I guess you didn't suddenly recognize the voice on the tape or remember something that would help?”

I wanted to tell her my take on what the caller had said, but I figured that it would sound self-justifying.

“No. I've never heard his voice in my life. I played it over the phone to the families, and they didn't recognize it, either.”

Starkey cocked her head as if she were surprised.

“That was a good idea, Cole, playing the tape for them like that. I hope none of them lied to you.”

“Why'd you have Hurwitz bring me the tape last night instead of doing it yourself?”

Starkey went to her car without answering.

“Drive yourself. You'll need to get back on your own.”

I locked the house, then led them across the canyon to the shoulder where Pike and I had parked the day before. It took about twelve minutes. Starkey changed into her running shoes while Chen unloaded his evidence kit. The shoulder had been empty yesterday, but now a line of small trucks and cars spilled around the curve from the nearby construction site. Starkey and Chen followed me across the hump and down through the brush. We passed the twin pines, then followed the erosion cut toward the lone scrub oak. As we got closer to the prints, I felt both anxious and afraid. Being here was like being closer to Ben, but not if the shoe prints didn't match. If they didn't match, we had nothing.

We reached the first print, a clean clear sole pressed into the dust between shale plates.

“This one's pretty clear. We'll see more below.”

Chen got down on his hands and knees for a closer look. I stood so close that I was almost on top of him.

Starkey said, “Stop crowding him, Cole. Get back.”

Chen glanced up and grinned.

“It's the same shoe, Starkey. I can see it even without the cast. Size eleven Rockports showing the same pebbled sole and traction lines.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest, and the dark ghost moved past me again. Starkey punched my arm.

“You fuck.”

Starkey could sweet-talk with the best of them.

Chen flagged eight more prints, and then we reached the tree. The heartier weeds had sprung up with the morning dew, but the depression behind the tree was still clear.

“That's it, just this side of the oak at its base. See where the grass is crushed?”

Starkey touched my arm.

“You wait here.”

Starkey moved closer. She stooped to look at my house from under the oak's limbs, then considered the surrounding hillside.

“All right, Cole. You made a good call. I don't know how you found this place, but this is okay. You figured this bastard good. John, I want a full area map.”

“I'll need help. We've got a lot more physicals than yesterday.”

Starkey squatted at the edge of the crushed grass, then bent to look close at something in the dirt.

She said, “John, gimme the tweezers.”

Chen handed her a Ziploc bag and tweezers from his evidence kit. Starkey picked up a small brown ball with the tweezers, eyeballed it, then put it into the bag. She looked up into the tree, then at the ground again.

I said, “What is it?”

“They look like mouse turds, but they're not. They're all over the place.”

Starkey picked one from a broad leaf of grass and put it onto her palm. Chen looked horrified.

“Don't touch it with your bare skin!”

I moved closer to see, and this time she didn't tell me to step back. A dozen dark brown wads the size of a BB stood out clearly on the hardpack. More brown flecks clung to the grass. I knew what they were as soon as I saw them because I had seen things like this when I was in the Army.

“It's tobacco.”

Chen said, “How do you know?”

“A smoker on patrol chews tobacco to get his fix. You chew, there's no smoke to give you away. That's what this guy did. He chewed, then spit out the bits of the tobacco when they were used up.”

Starkey glanced at me, and I knew what she was thinking. Another connection to Vietnam. She handed the bag to Chen. She dry-swallowed another white pill, then studied me for a moment with a deep vertical line between her eyebrows.

“I want to try out something on you.”

“What?”

“Over by your house, this guy doesn't leave anything, one measly little partial that we could barely see. Here, he leaves crap all over the place.”

“He felt safe here.”

“Yeah. He had a good spot down here where no one could see him, so he didn't give a shit. I'm thinking that if he got careless down here, maybe he got careless up at the street, too. There aren't many houses on this stretch, and we got that construction site right here around the curve. I've gotta call Gittamon and have patrol pull the door-to-door to this side of the canyon, but there aren't that many people to talk to. By the time Gittamon and the uniforms get out here, you and I could have it done.”

“I thought I wasn't supposed to be involved.”

“I didn't ask for a lot of conversation. You want to do it or you want to waste time?”

“Of course I want to do it.”

Starkey glanced at Chen.

“You tell anyone, I'll kick your ass.”

We left Chen calling SID for another criminalist, and walked back along the curve to the construction site. A single-story contemporary had been ripped apart to expand the ground floor and add a second story. A long blue Dumpster sat in the street in front of the house, already half-filled with trimmed lumber and other debris. A framing crew was roughing in the second floor while electricians pulled wire through the first-floor conduit. Here it was late fall, but the workmen were shirtless and in shorts.

An older man with baggy pants was bent over a set of plans in the garage, explaining something to a sleepy young guy wearing electrician's tools. The drywall inside the garage and the house had been pulled down, leaving the studs exposed like human ribs.

Starkey didn't wait for them to notice us or excuse the interruption. She badged the older guy.

“LAPD. I'm Starkey, he's Cole. Are you the boss here?”

The older man identified himself as Darryl Cauley, the general contractor. His face closed with suspicion.

“Is this an INS thing? If someone's sneaking under the wire, I got a signed bond from every sub saying these people are legal.”

The younger guy started away, but Starkey stopped him.

“Yo, stay put. We want to talk to everyone.”

Cauley darkened even more.

“What is this?”

Talking to people wasn't one of Starkey's strengths, so I answered before he decided to call his attorney.

“We believe that a kidnapper was in the area, Mr. Cauley. He parked or drove on this street every day for the past week or so. We want to know if you noticed any vehicles or people who seemed out of place.”

The electrician hooked his thumbs on his tools and perked up.

“No shit? Was someone kidnapped?”

Starkey said, “A ten-year-old boy. It happened the day before yesterday.”

“Wow.”

Mr. Cauley tried to be helpful, but explained that he divided his time between three different job sites; he rarely stayed at this house more than a couple of hours each day.

“I don't know what to tell you. I got subs coming and going, I got the different crews. Do you have a picture, what do they call it, a mug shot?”

“No, sir. We don't know who he is or what he looks like. We don't know what he was driving, either, but we believe he spent a lot of time around the curve where your crew is parked.”

The electrician glanced toward the curve.

“Oh, man, that is so creepy.”

Cauley said, “I'd like to help, but I don't know. These guys here, their friends drop by, their girlfriends. I got another site over in Beachwood, last month a limo pulls up with all these suits from Capitol Records. They signed one of the carpenters to a record deal for three million dollars. You never know, is what I'm saying.”

Starkey said, “Can we talk to your crew?”

“Yeah, sure. James, you wanna call your guys? Tell Frederico and the framers to come down.”

Between the framers and the electricians, Cauley had nine men working that day. Two of the framers had trouble with English, but Cauley helped with the Spanish. Everyone cooperated when they heard that a child was missing, but no one remembered anyone out of the ordinary. The day felt half over by the time we finished even though it was not yet noon.

Starkey fired up a cigarette when we reached the Dumpster.

“Okay. Let's do the houses.”

“He wouldn't have parked more than five or six houses on either side of the curve. The farther he had to walk, the bigger the risk that someone would see him.”

“Okay. And?”

“Let's split up. I'll take the houses on the far side and you take the houses on this side. It'll be faster.”

Starkey agreed. I left her with the cigarette and trotted back past our cars to the houses on the far side of the curve. An Ecuadorean housekeeper answered at the first house, but she hadn't seen anyone or anything, and wasn't able to help. No one answered at the next house, but an elderly man wearing a thin robe and slippers answered at the third. He was so frail with osteoporosis that he drooped like a dying flower. I explained about the man on the slope and asked if he had seen anyone. The old man's toothless mouth hung open. I told him that a boy was missing. He didn't answer. I slipped my card into his pocket, told him to call if he remembered something, then pulled the door closed. I spoke with another housekeeper, a young woman with three small children, then reached another house where no one was home. It was a weekday and people were working.

I thought about trying the houses farther up the street but Starkey was leaning against her Crown Vic when I got back to our cars.

I said, “You get anything?”

“C'mon, Cole, do I look like it? I've talked to so many people who haven't seen anything that I asked one broad if she ever went outside.”

“People skills aren't your strong point, are they?”

“Look, I've gotta call Gittamon to get some help out here. I want to run down the garbage men, the mailman, the private security cars that work this street, and anyone else who might've seen something, but you and I have taken it as far as we can. You gotta split.”

“C'mon, Starkey, there's plenty to do and I can help do it. I can't walk away now.”

She spoke carefully, with a soft voice.

“It's scut work, Cole. You need to get some rest. I'll call you if we get something.”

“I can call the security companies from my house.”

My voice sounded desperate even to me. She shook her head.

“You know that movie they make you watch before the plane takes off, when they're telling you what to do in an emergency?”

My head was filled with a faraway buzz as if I were drunk and hungry at the same time.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“They tell you that if the plane loses pressure, you're supposed to put on your own oxygen mask before you put on your kid's. The first time I saw that I thought, bullshit, if I had a kid I'd sure as shit put on her mask first. It's natural, you know? You want to save your child. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. You have to save yourself first because if you're not alive, you sure as hell can't help your child. That's you, Cole. You have to put on your mask if you want to help Ben. Go home. I'll call you if something pops.”

She walked away from me then and joined Chen at his van.

I climbed into my car. I didn't know if I would go home, or not. I didn't know if I would sleep, or could. I left. I drove around the curve and saw a pale yellow catering van parked by the Dumpster because that's the way it works. You lay the bricks until you get a break.

The van had just arrived.

Maybe if I hadn't been so tired I would have thought of it sooner: Construction crews have to eat, and catering vans feed them, twice a day every day, breakfast and lunch. It was eleven-fifty. Ben had been missing for almost forty-four hours.