Mike pointed to the monitor at his hip, which gave off a soothing rush of white air. ‘I got you, sweetheart.’ He gestured next door. ‘And Shep’s here.’
At this her face lightened a touch.
Shep waited for Mike’s nod, then leaned through the doorway. ‘What’s with your head?’
‘Lice.’ She made a face. ‘I know.’
Shep vanished for a moment and returned with his Dopp kit, the same one he’d had as a kid. He rooted around, produced a pair of clippers, and tossed them to Mike.
‘
Shep held up his hands in surrender, came in, and took up on a chair in the corner.
Mike’s mouth moved a few times as he tried to put his gratitude into words, but Shep cut him short. ‘Handle your business.’
Mike closed the door quietly after him.
Kat jerked awake in the darkness with a cry.
Shep didn’t move from his chair. ‘You’re okay,’ he said.
‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Meeting a guy next door. You’ve only been asleep a few minutes.’
‘Someone who’ll help us?’
‘Sure.’
‘Did you see her?’ Kat asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What’d she look like?’
‘Chalky. Peaceful.’
‘Is she gonna die?’
‘I don’t know.’
Her bottom lip started to go, but she got it under control. ‘Can I… can I have a hug?’
‘I don’t do that,’ Shep said.
She flopped back down and curled up in a little ball. Within seconds she was asleep again. She fussed, eyelids flickering. Shep rose from the chair and moved silently across the room. He stood over her. She fussed some more. He reached out and rested a large hand on her back.
She stilled.
A moth landed on the window by Mike’s face and spread its leathery wings. Rain started up, a patter on the motel roof that grew to a constant thrum. Just as he started to doze off, the rumble of Hank’s Oldsmobile outside jarred him awake.
When Mike opened the door, Hank ducked into the room, pulling off driving gloves, rainwater dripping from him. ‘It’s like a cow pissing on a flat rock out there.’
Slanting rain smudged the streetlights. Steam rose from the hoods of idling cars. A seam of straw-colored light fringed the eastern horizon, interrupted by the blocky rise of Universal City. Mike took a long look outside before closing the door.
Hank brushed off his coat, his trousers, the drops big enough to tap the carpet. ‘I’m sorry about Annabel. You know there’s nothing you could’ve done differently.’
‘Does anyone ever say that when it’s true?’
Hank tugged at his jowls – point taken. He scratched his shin.
‘They ID her attacker yet?’ Mike asked.
‘Hanley Burrell.’
Mike pictured the angled view he’d had of the guy from across the kitchen. That unshaven cheek, the hunch over Annabel, those fingers fussing obscenely at the strap of her bra. Mike couldn’t manage to attach the name to him. It conferred a humanity, a real-worldness to a figure who seemed to have crawled out of a nightmare. Mike turned the name over, came up blank. ‘Where’s he from?’
‘No address. I guess he was a transient.’
‘He have a brother, William?’
‘Indeed he does.’
‘Lemme guess – no address for him either.’
‘No. His last-knowns put him in Redding, but that was two years back.’
Mike exhaled, fighting to concentrate. ‘North-of-Sacramento, middle-of-nowhere Redding?’
Nodding, Hank hacked into a fist, a rattling cough that went too long and left him winded. His head drooped, and he pasted a few stray hairs back over his scalp with a palm. Then he drew himself upright, finding again that proud posture. Still, he looked as fragile as a newborn’s neck.
‘Listen,’ Mike said, ‘I know this is about the last thing you need right now-’
But Hank showed little interest in taking that detour. ‘There’s more,’ he said, cutting Mike off. ‘William’s got a robust record, as you can imagine, a good list of known associates. One is Roger Drake, a six-foot-six piece of work, like a Mack truck with no one behind the windshield.’
‘Dodge.’
‘That’s right. Now, when the cops searched the blocks surrounding your house, they didn’t find a vehicle registered to Hanley. So someone dropped him off.’
‘Or he rode with Rick Graham. The cop I-’
‘Shep mentioned that.’ Hank drew in a breath, mouth corkscrewing to the side. ‘When the ambulance and first responders arrived, they said there was no one at the house but Annabel. And there’s no Rick Graham working for any law-enforcement agency in this county.’
‘Can you check other ones?’
‘There are a lot of counties from sea to shining sea. Could the badge have been a fake?’
‘He had an exempt government vehicle. Plus, I got a read on him. The guy was a cop. A lifer, too – he had the swagger, the demeanor, the whole thing.’
Hank pulled his gaze to the ceiling, as close to an eye roll as he’d allow. He wobbled on his feet a bit, and Mike realized that he needed to sit but was too proud to ask, and Mike had been too dense to offer.
Mike sat on the bed and gestured, and Hank, grimacing, eased himself down into a chair. The effort left him short of breath again, his eyelids sluggish when he blinked. What kind of meds was he battling just to be here, just to be upright? A wave of gratitude washed over Mike. He wanted to express it somehow, but, as if reading his thoughts, Hank spun his hand for Mike to proceed, a curt, irritated gesture.
Mike continued. ‘I’m thinking Graham was the backstop in case things got sticky and the authorities got involved. That’s why once he caught wind of the 911 call, he went in instead of Dodge and William.’
‘If he’s really a cop, then why did he take off?’ Hank said. ‘Why wouldn’t he have just shot you and filed a false report?’
‘Maybe he was planning to after he finished sweeping the house. I think he figured he’d see if he could handle it quick and easy. If he gets spotted, he explains his way out of it. If he can sneak away, even better.’
Hank frowned skeptically. ‘A cop executioner? In bed with a lowlife like Hanley Burrell?’
‘I figure Graham for the guy who put out that alert on me.’
‘So the original plan was to send in Hanley alone to do the dirty work?’
‘I think so. Hanley kicks in the door, overpowers Annabel, has time to set up and wait for me. When I get home with’ – Mike’s fingers nervously tapped the monitor clipped to his belt – ‘Kat, he’s got privacy and my wife and daughter there to make me cooperate with whatever the hell they want. Then he cleans up afterward. Kills me.’ He pictured the drop cloth, wadded on the living-room floor. ‘At that point Annabel and Kat would be witnesses-’ He severed the thought. ‘But Hanley couldn’t keep it under control until I got there.’
A cry wavered through the thin wall. Kat. Mike tensed.
‘Go,’ Hank said.
Mike hurried next door, patted Kat back to sleep, and returned, now with Shep at his heels. Shep crossed his arms, leaned against the bureau.
Hank said, ‘Shep, I presume?’
Shep nodded.
Hank turned to Mike. ‘Look, I’m a second-rate investigator with a foot in the grave. But I know a little.’ With
