Twenty minutes after Melvin Coben picks him up at the prison and gives him the keys to a rental car, Kane cuts off his bracelet and tosses it into a field. Two hours later, he’s knocking on a door.
Bobby Jenson’s girlfriend sees his knife when the door swings open. He slashes her throat. Blood spurts everywhere as her head flies back. It’s a delicious sight. Bobby’s in the bedroom. He gets the same treatment.
The killer then checks into a hotel using the false driver’s license and cash his attorney provided. He cleans up and uses the hair dye he’s bought to color his silver hair brown before hitting the road again.
The elementary school Marianne Wentworth attends is in the suburbs of Fresno, about an hour from Avenal. While he waits for the shrink’s daughter to get out of school, he decides to make a call using the throw-a-way phone he bought at the local Wal-Mart.
Kane doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I want an update on what’s been happening.”
The man on the line tries to sound reassuring. But when Kane hears Bautista is still on the run, it has the opposite effect.
“As I said before, if you can’t take care of loose ends, I will.” Kane’s anger kicks up a notch. “The female detective also has to die.”
“We’ve already talked about that,” the man says. “Sexton is facing discipline and running scared.”
Kane laughs until tears come to his eyes. “She came to see me yesterday, right after my parole hearing.”
“What?”
“She talked to Harper and is beginning to put things together. It’s time she disappears.”
“We know about the meeting with Harper. The producer kept his big mouth shut for once.” The man’s voice takes on a pleading quality. “The timing is all wrong. It’s one thing to kill a felon who’s on the run, wanted for murder, but it’s another to kill a cop on active duty. That changes the entire game.”
Kane considers this and says, “Let me concentrate on Bautista first.”
He ends the call and his thoughts drift back to his meeting with the female cop. There’s something about her that interests him. She doesn’t back down. He likes that. Maybe she will be worth saving until the end. In the meantime, they can use her brother and his idiotic boyfriend to keep her occupied. He feels himself getting hard just thinking about how it will all play out.
The bell rings. Children begin streaming out of the school. Kane sees the third grader run into her mother’s arms. His pulse begins to pound with excitement. God, he loves freedom.
Nathan Kane puts the car in gear, follows Marsha Wentworth and her daughter. It’s killing time again.
“I’m just the messenger, Detective.” Jimmy Chester’s BB eyes darted around the office not looking at me. “The department made it very clear. They think they have enough evidence to terminate your employment.”
It was early morning. I’d arranged to meet with the rat at his office after his late night phone call had ruined another good night’s sleep.
I set my Starbucks latte on the edge of his desk. “I don’t understand how IAD can make that claim.”
“Blaylock wouldn’t tip his hand, but he told me that if you don’t resign there could be enough evidence to have the DA file criminal charges against you.”
“Charges? For what?”
“That’s all he would say. Believe me, I’m on your side, Detective. But I want you to know something—they want your head.”
I thought about Charlie’s name for police administration. “Guess that’s why they call it the Tower.”
Chester’s brow furrowed. “Now, I might be able to work out a suitable arrangement. No prosecution, as long as you’re willing…”
I was on my feet. “Listen to me, you little… I won’t resign, ever.”
Chester shrugged. “Your choice.”
I picked up my latte and started for door. My anger stopped me and I turned back to him. “Our defense?”
“What?”
“What is our defense going to be, Mr. Chester?”
“Well...I guess we can say...you were trying to deflect...” He paused, clearly searching for something.
“Reasonable force,” I said. “My actions were to keep another officer from violating the department’s policy on reasonable force. It’s on page ninety-one of the department’s Use of Force Manual in case you want to look it up before Friday.” I moved toward the door again. “And, try to remember. You’re working for me, not the department.”
I slammed the door and walked out. As I headed for my car I did some deep breathing exercises to try calming myself.
On the way to the station, I stopped at my mom’s house to pick up Bernie. My furry 110 pound partner had fully recovered from his sprain. He jumped up on me when I walked through the door.
Robin laughed. “He’s ready for duty, Kate. Another night of hearing what Mom calls ‘presidential privileges’ and he told me he’s going to run away.”
After I recovered from Bernie’s love attack, I got up and hugged Robin. “That bad?”
My brother turned to Janet Logan and arched his brows.
“Another rough night,” Janet said. “The nurse should be by again this morning.”
I looked in on Mom who was still wrapped in bandages but sleeping peacefully. I then found Robin in the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee.
“That guy, Jack, who came by last night,” Robin said as I joined him at the table, “he was pretty worried about both of us. He said something about someone making threats.”
“It’s a long story. I can’t go into all the details right now, but I’d like you to stay here with Mom for a few more days.”
Robin looked like he had just been diagnosed with a terminal disease. “I’ll do almost anything for you, Kate. Watch your dog. Loan you money. Might even try going straight for a day. But there’s one thing I can’t do: spend another hour with Mom.”
I had to smile. “Okay, then please stay home, stay away from Wolf Donovan’s estate, and stay away from Zen. I got word he’s very bad news.”
“And what am I supposed to do about Clark?”
“Clark has to learn to take care of himself, Robin. You need to back off and let things sort themselves out.”
Robin took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try.”
I kissed his cheek. “Thanks little brother. You’re the best.” I heard a sound coming from Mom’s bedroom. Janet Logan rushed down the hallway. I looked at Robin and said, “First one out of here gets a presidential pardon.”
We nearly trampled one another running for the door.
When I got to the station, I was surprised to hear Natalie’s voice coming from the break room. I found her with several officers gathered around as she talked about her ride-a-long with Bob Anderson, one of the night shift officers.
“At first, I thought the girl was just a cabbage head,” Natalie said. “We were drivin’ her to the station when I glanced into the backseat. She was starin’ off into space, all mashed up from being at the pub. A minute later she starts flailing around and somehow gets her skirt pulled up at the waist.”
Natalie’s hazel eyes were like two full moons as the officers laughed and she went on. “I look down and then I see it. The girl’s got a knob! A moment later, she or I guess it’s he, starts grinnin’ at me and actin’ like Bernie on a poodle prowl.”
Natalie glanced at my hairy partner who was lying next to me, resting his head on his paws. “Sorry old boy,” Natalie said. “Didn’t mean to get too personal.”
More officers gathered around as Natalie continued. Then I saw Jessica Barlow walk into the break room.
“Bitch at one-eighty,” I said to Charlie who’d also heard the commotion and wandered in.
“Probably here to take notes for the brass.”
Natalie continued, “So, the twonk starts in with the five knuckle shuffle right there in the back of the ruddy cop car.”
A roar of laughter rose up. Jessica had her hands on her hips.
“A second later,” Natalie went on, “he’s pullin’ on his pud faster than a jack rabbit in a rainstorm. So I turn to Bob here and say, ‘I’m just warnin’ you, I think our prisoner is gonna spunk up all over the backseat.’”
Anderson managed to comment over the laughter, “There was a sense of urgency in the situation.”
“Urgency?” Natalie said. “I’ll say. By the time we got the car to the curb, the dimbo exploded. It was like that volcano in Hawaii or somethin’.”
As the room roared with laughter, I said, “Sounds like just another routine evening patrol in Hollywood.”
Jessica Barlow moved forward. The laughter died. “That kind of conversation is more appropriate for the locker room than the break room.”
Natalie stared at Jessica and said, “You needn’t get your thong all up in a twist, lady. I was just havin’ a little fun with the story.”
Jessica scowled and turned to Bob Anderson. “And, since when do we allow civilians in the break room?”
I interrupted. “Since when is this any of your business?”
“I’m going to report this,” Jessica said, turning on her heel. She looked at the other officers who were still gathered around. “I would think the rest of you have better things to do than listen to sexually inappropriate remarks.”
“Are you kidding?” Anderson said. “That’s what we live for.”
As Jessica was leaving the room, Natalie said to the officers, “Fraid she’s got herself all worked up into a cluck fuck for nuthin’.”
When the laughter finally died down again, I walked Natalie to the parking lot where Clyde was waiting.
“Can you come by my house around seven tonight?” Natalie asked. “I also invited Pearl. Got somethin’ to tell you both about our investigation.”
“I’ll be there.”
I spent the rest of the day doing paperwork and thinking about my meeting with Jimmy Chester. I decided not to tell Charlie about the meeting. Just the thought of resigning from the department made my stomach churn. And criminal charges? I had no idea how my actions in trying to protect an unarmed man from being shot could even remotely be considered criminal.
The more I thought about what was happening, the more I became convinced I was being set up. And the setup was coming from the highest levels in the department.
***
When Bernie and I arrived at Natalie’s house that evening, I found her pouring a cup of tea for Pearl. I accepted an offer of wine instead of tea as we complimented her on the home she and Clyde had renovated—a mid-century modern with a view to die for.
As she showed us around, Natalie told us Clyde was out with the boys playing poker. Considering Clyde’s age, maybe they had a card room at a local convalescent hospital.
As I plopped onto the sofa between my friends, I felt the sleepless night catching up with me. Pearl apparently noticed. “Long day?”
“Had better.”
“Charlie told me about your IAD meeting on Friday.”
“It’s something called an interrogation. Just a few bamboo shoots under the nails, waterboarding, that sort of thing.”
“Let me know if I can help,” he said, squeezing my hand.
I took a breath, feeling emotional over the events of the last couple of days.
Natalie touched my shoulder. “I’m also here for you. We’re all in this fight together.”
I hugged Natalie as Pearl removed two sheets of paper from an envelope and set them on the coffee table. “Remember when we decided to follow the money trail? I spent the better part of today at the library continuing down that path.”
Natalie and I examined the first copy of what we realized were microfiche records. It was a legal notice of articles of incorporation from November of 1983. The corporation’s name was Pacific Trading Partners. I then read the names on the register. I looked up into Pearl’s brown eyes. “John David Carmichael and Conrad Bradford Harper.”
Pearl motioned to the paperwork. “The copy behind the one you’re holding is a legal notice of dissolution of the corporation filed in June of 1984, approximately three months before Carmichael went missing.”
I looked up from the papers. “I wonder just what kind of business the corporation engaged in.”
“I’d sure like to ask Mr. Harper,” Pearl said.
I handed the legal notices back to him. “I doubt that’s going to happen.”
I then took a few minutes to fill them in on my meeting with Kane and the threat he made. “He should have been released on parole this morning. I just hope he stays away from my brother.”
Pearl slipped a piece of paper into my hand that had a name and phone number. “I talked to an old friend who used to work in the DA’s office. He said Bill Compton was the prosecutor when Kane was sent to prison. Thought you might want to track him down and see what he remembers about the case.”
Natalie tugged on my sleeve and said, “I also got me some news. I’ve been shakin’ some trees and found out that John Carmichael’s secretary, Lydia Grayson, is still alive. She lives at the Sandalwood Retirement Home in Santa Monica. I made an appointment for us to talk to her tomorrow afternoon.” Her eyes were on me. “Do you think you can make it?”
“I’ll be there.”
***
My answering machine was blinking when I got home. The first message was from Jimmy Chester, telling me not to worry, that he was going to mount a vigorous defense on my behalf.
After listening to the message, I turned to Bernie and said, “He might as well mount a sheep for all the good he’ll do me.”
The second message was from Jack, saying that he had a lead on Cassie Reynolds’s mother and would be out of the area for a few days. At the end of the message he said something that caused me to replay the recording a couple of times.
The message said, “Last night was very special to me; just so you know.”
After turning off the machine, I tossed a handful of bills into my wicker basket, fed Bernie, and then moved to the sofa. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about everything that had happened over the past few days.
A good cop was wanted for murder. My job was in jeopardy. I might be facing criminal charges. And my brother’s life had been threatened. I spent the next ten minutes engaging in what a girlfriend once called therapy tears. When I finished my therapy session, the fatigue of the last two days caught up with me and I dozed off on the sofa.
Several hours later, I was jolted awake when my phone rang.
The voice on the line said, “Kate, this is Brian Jankowitz.”
I was immediately on the defensive, wondering if the captain was calling because of my pending disciplinary proceedings.
“Yes, Jank. What is it?”
“I’ve got some bad news, Kate. Your brother’s been arrested.”