Dallas was shaking when she got back in her car. Bitterness and pain were a lethal mix. The only note of relief was finding out that all those images weren’t there because of Ron. She knew now his confession of downloading then deleting pornography was sincere. It has been Lisa who was responsible, sad Lisa whose act was driven by ambition. She wanted to seal Ron’s doom in the eyes of the church and the public. Leaving a wide-open door for Bob to walk through and take over as Hillside’s leader.
But Dallas was also certain that Lisa’s desire to ruin Ron did not mean she had anything to do with Melinda Perry’s killing. Melinda’s real killer was still out there, and Dallas sensed that her opportunity to uncover the truth had not expired. But there was a connection she couldn’t quite make. She was certain it had something to do with what Detective Lacy had told her.
She called him from the car and, surprisingly, he picked up. “It’s Dallas Hamilton,” she said. “Can you meet me?” “When?”
“Now.”
A short pause. “Name the place.”
She chose an isolated corner of a park in Chatsworth, as far west as you could go in the Valley without burrowing into a mountain. She’d often come here with the kids when they were little. It was secluded and still and dotted with oak trees. A natural spot for a game of hide-and-seek.
Dallas got there first and waited by one of the gnarly trees she actually remembered hiding behind on one outing. Jared was eight or nine, and when he couldn’t find her, he got scared. He said it was because he thought he was being chased by someone. She remembered that clearly.
“Don’t leave me alone!” he cried, clinging to her. She vowed she never would.
Detective Lacy walked across the large grassy area before the trees twenty minutes later, looking around. No one else was visible in the park. Dallas stepped out from behind the tree and waved.
“I like this place,” he said. “Beats my office.”
Dallas was in no mood for small talk. “If you want me to wear this wire, I need to know who and why. I want the details.”
He nodded. “Let me tell you about it in a certain way, starting with Gentri Land. Are you ready?”
“Do I need to be sitting down or something?”
“You can lean against the tree if you have to.”
She did. “I’m ready.”
Detective Lacy looked around once, then back at Dallas. “Gentri Land is a legitimate corporation, at least from the outside looking in.”
“And Vic Lu leases property from them.”
“More than that. He’s an investor. He pumps a lot of money into the corporation. Legally. In return, he shares in the holdings.”
“So where’s the illegal part?”
“We don’t know yet if there is. But we’re getting closer.”
“How?”
“We’ve managed to identify a few of the principals. I have a list of names I’d like you to take a look at.” He fished a paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Dallas.
There were five names on the page. She didn’t recognize any of them.
“There is something that all these names have in common, besides Gentri Land Corporation,” he said. “Each one of them was a major contributor in the last citywide election. And each one of them gave the maximum to one candidate.”
She knew who it was even before he said it. “Bernie Halstrom.”
The detective nodded.
“What’s it mean?” she asked.
“Nothing yet. It’s all perfectly legal. On paper. But it could be pointing to a fraud underneath.”
“Fraud?”
“What if Gentri Land was a front to channel political funds into a campaign? In this case, Halstrom’s. The contributions come from individuals, but Gentri Land compensates them for their contributions.”
“I’m not sure I follow that.”
“If Gentri Land has one principal investor, he could make a way around the campaign-contributions limit. He pumps money into the corporation, the corporation pumps it out to these individuals, the individuals hand it over to Bernie Halstrom’s campaign.”
She tried to ignore the sinkhole opening up in her chest. Disappointment, mostly. Bernie Halstrom was just like any other politician trying to skirt the rules. Maybe she was naïve to have thought it could be any other way.
“You want me to go in to see Bernie with a wire on?”
“If you’d be willing.”
“I don’t think I can do that. I’m not a very good liar.”
“I’m not asking you to lie.”
“In a way, you are. I would be betraying a trust.”
“Just as Bernie has betrayed his public trust.”
“I suppose that’s true, but he’s also been a friend.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Detective Lacy sighed. “I guess you trust me too. I haven’t been completely forthcoming with you.”
How many more disclosures were there going to be? She braced herself. “You can start now if you like.”
He nodded. “There is one other name associated with Gentri Land, someone who is technically the chief executive officer. His name is Walter Channing.”
“I don’t know that name either.”
“No need for you to know. It’s not his real name anyway. His real name is Cheong.”
“It sounds Chinese.”
“Vietnamese. And he is the cousin of Vic Lu.”
It was all a little too complex, a spider’s web of sticky threads. “What do you think all this means?”
The detective leaned forward as if he didn’t want anyone to hear him, even though they were alone. “It means that Gentri Land may be a way for Vic Lu to pay off Bernie Halstrom, hold his public antiporn campaigns at bay.”
“When this all started,” she said, “you told me Vic Lu had something to do with Gilda’s disappearance.”
“We don’t know that for certain.”
“But you think so. And maybe you think Bernie might be involved.”
“That’s why I’ve asked you to wear a wire.”
When she called Bernie, she made it sound important, which is exactly what it was. When he offered to pick her up, she accepted with trepidation. But meeting on his terms could get him loose enough to admit something that would help Detective Lacy make his case, which might lead to the answer on what really happened to Melinda Perry.
Lacy had her come to West Valley station, where a female officer rigged her with a wire that was a marvel of modern technology. It would record five hours on a digital media the size of a penny. She only had to be within five feet of Bernie Halstrom.
He picked her up in front of Cara’s apartment. Derek, his driver, smiled and nodded as he opened the door for her.
Bernie shook her hand warmly as she slid in beside him.
“To the feed store, Derek,” he said.
“Where are we headed?” Dallas asked.
“You’ll see. Sit back and relax. I’m glad we have this chance to talk.”
Talk away, as much as you want.
She had prepared as best she could for this moment. Over and over in her mind she played out the scene: How Bernie would be the same old Bernie, glad- handing her, expressing concern. How she would have to pretend to believe it and keep her face from screwing up into a resemblance of a gargoyle.
This was going to be a lot harder in actual fact.
“I’ve been wanting to bring something up with you,” Bernie said.
“Oh?”
“Now that Ron’s case is off the front page,” he said, “I thought you might like to have something to help carry on his work, a project.”
“What sort of project?”
“I’m organizing a new citizens’ committee to inform me on matters from a grassroots level. Everything from schools and parks to the cracks in the sidewalk. I feel like I need to have this network, and I want you to head it up.”
“Me?”
“You.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“I think you can handle it. I know you can. Will you at least consider it?”
I’ll consider it before I reject it.
“Sure.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that. Maybe get Hillside involved in this. Bob and Lisa Benson.”
Dallas closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear from you.”
“Are you feeling all right?”
She looked at him. “Just tired.” Through the heavily tinted windows of the limo she could see they were heading south on Topanga, toward the canyon.
“Where are we headed?” she asked.
“My surprise. A little place in Malibu overlooking the ocean. You’ll love it.”
“Dinner?”
“You object?”
“No, of course not.” A casual social setting might also serve her cause.
“Now,” Bernie said, “what was it you wanted to see me about? You sounded very concerned on the phone, like it’s something I should know.”
Here it was. Detective Lacy had prepped her with the questions to ask. Now she had to make it all seem natural.
“Bernie, do you know a man named Walter Channing?”
“Sure, I know Walter. He’s a great supporter of mine. You know him?”
“Not personally.”
“What brought him to your attention?”
“The police.”
“Police? Why?”
“They wouldn’t say.”
Bernie paused, his mind obviously working away. Finally, he said, “What was the nature of their questions to you?”
“Apparently he has some sort of connection with Vic Lu and a corporation called Gentri Land. Do you know what that means?”
That was it. Now was the time to watch his reactions. The tape would catch his words and, the police hoped, reveal something below the surface. Not an admission, that was too much to hope for. But statements that could be contradicted by physical records — phone calls, notes of meetings, computer files.
His face was clothed with concern. He couldn’t hide it. But the wire could not capture visuals.
Bernie reached for a button on the side-door console. A black glass screen whirred upward, separating them from his driver.
“I want to keep this just between us,” he said. “You must tell me everything that was said to you.”
Dallas tried to remain calm. “That’s really all. They asked vague questions on a lot of things.”
“What other things?”
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to say.”
“Did the police tell you not to say anything?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of? Dallas, please try to be clear.”
“I don’t know anything other than that, Bernie. Is there something wrong? You seem to be upset.”
“I have political enemies, Dallas. You know that. Someone could be trying to manufacture something here. And you’re being used.”
“I don’t think so.”
He shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?”
Why was he touching her? Was this the gesture of an old friend, or something more?
“Yes, we have,” Dallas said.
“And we trust each other, right?”
“Of course.” She tried to sound as sincere as possible. Instead, her words rang hollow.
He kept his hand on her shoulder, patting it softly. “You know, I’m having to deal with so much. I feel I’m being accused of something I did not do. Some association with Gentri Land and Vic Lu, of all people. You don’t believe that, do you, Dallas?”
She didn’t know what to believe. She wanted to get out of the limo and hitchhike home.
“I’ll listen to anything you have to say, Bernie.”
“I’m sure you will. And who else?”
“Excuse me?”
His hand slipped down her back. “Who else is listening, Dallas?”
With a violent thrust, he pressed one hand on her mouth, pushing her head back into the seat. With his other hand he ripped her blouse. It tore away like paper. She was half-exposed now, but the shock of his attack froze her.
In one more second he tore the wire from her body and dangled the apparatus from his hand.
“Dallas, Dallas.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
She was not going to put up any pretenses now. She let her voice give vent. “What about you, Bernie? All those years lying to my face? How could you do that?”
“Because I know you, and I know you don’t get it. Politics is about compromise, and sometimes you have to do things to get the power to get things done. Good things. It balances out. But you and Ron never understood compromise.”
“Lies, that’s what I don’t understand.”
“You think I’m not doing good for the community? You think my record isn’t something to be proud of?” His voice was rising. “I’ll stand shoulder to shoulder with anybody for the benefits I’ve brought my constituents.”
“Like Vic Lu.” She gripped her blouse and held it together across her chest.
“Yeah, believe it or not, Dallas, he’s a member of the community too. Get off your high horse. He’s not a lawbreaker.”
“You were supposed to change that. Instead, you used Ron and me to put up a front.”
“Water under the bridge at this point. What matters now is what we’re going to do about you.”
She shuddered, her insides tensing like a fist. It was all so surreal, looking into the face of a man she thought she knew, thought was good, now speaking in a voice that froze her to the bone.
Bernie picked up the handset. “Derek, slight change of plans. Go back. We need to see our mutual friend. And make sure no one follows us.”
He put the handset down and looked at Dallas. “Needless to say, dinner is off.”
Night had always been Jared’s favorite time for driving. Especially on the quiet ribbon of Interstate 5. It was peaceful in its way, a place to think.
And he had plenty to think about after the visit to his father up north.
The prison at Los Rios was one of the older facilities in the California system. As such it had an almost nostalgic appearance, with its four corner guard towers right out of some old Warner Bros. movie, and a large water tower overlooking the razor-wire fence.
The visitors’ room was a row of hard metal stools before wire screens. This time he would hear his father’s voice for real, not over a phone line. And he wondered just how he was going to react to it.
Jared was drying his palms on his shirt when his father came through an inner door. He was dressed in denim pants and blue work shirt. He looked more like a farmer than a prisoner.
He sat opposite Jared, smiling. “You look well,” he said.
“You look skinny,” Jared said.
“It’s a new thing — the felony accusation diet.”
His father’s attempt at humor went past his head like a stray bullet. “Why did you do it, Dad? I mean, plead guilty?”
“No contest,” Ron corrected, then sighed. “I just chose not to fight anymore. And in a way I’m responsible for what happened to that girl.”
“But you’re not responsible. You didn’t kill her.”
“The evidence was going to convince a jury that I did.”
“I don’t want you in here.” Jared felt a sudden burning behind his eyes. He fought for control. “I spent a lot of time mad at you, Dad. I guess I want a chance to work it out. Kind of hard when you’re up here.”
Ron didn’t say anything for a long moment. He swallowed several times, his Adam’s apple rising, falling. Finally he said, “Why don’t we start with one step at a time. You know how to write. So let’s do it that way and see what happens. Will you do that for me? Write letters?”
“Sure, Dad. I’ll write up a storm.”
And he would. As he drove back toward L.A., Jared thought about all the things he’d say in those letters, how he’d write and be totally honest and ask for forgiveness. How he wouldn’t stop writing until he had his father back in his life again, because when he got right down to it, family was the only thing that really mattered in this world. Physical family, church family, any family where people came together because they needed someone to hang on to when the going got tough.
That included Tiana and Jamaal. Jared had to find them, had to resume the search. He wouldn’t have any peace until he did.
A pale moon was in the sky ahead of him, partially obscured by clouds. But there was enough light to make the outline of the distant mountains stand out like sentinels. They guarded the way back home and would let him through only if he believed in the promise of reconciliations, a ton of them, laying beyond.
He believed, and drove on.