“That’s why I want to see it.”
Holman realized her instincts were right. The summit was the only private place on the hill.
They squeezed between the hillside and the corner of the fence by the communication station, then scrambled up a narrow, steep path. It wasn’t easy going like the fire road. Pollard twice fell to her knees, but pretty soon they crested the summit and reached a small clearing at the top of the hill. The only things up here were the survey equipment Holman remembered and brush. Pollard looked around at the 360-degree view that surrounded them and smiled.
“That’s what I’m talking about! If they were doing the nasty, this is where they were doing it.”
Pollard was right. From the clearing, they could see if anyone was approaching on the fire road. The cameras that dotted the fences were below them, and pointed downhill toward the sign. No one was watching the summit.
But Holman still didn’t believe Marchenko and Parsons had buried their money up here. Carrying that much cash would have taken several trips, and each trip would have increased the odds they would be discovered. Even if they were stupid enough to bring the money up here, the hole needed to bury it would have been the size of five or six suitcases. It would have been difficult to dig in the rocky soil, and anyone else who visited the summit would have easily noticed the large area of disturbed soil.
Holman pointed out the heel prints and scuff marks that had been scratched into the clearing.
“Maybe he had the girl up here, but there’s no way they brought the money. You see all these footprints? Hikers come up here all the time.”
Pollard considered the prints, then walked around the edges of the clearing. She seemed to be studying it from different angles.
She said, “This little hill isn’t so big. There’s not a lot of room up here.”
“That’s my point.”
Pollard gazed down at Hollywood.
“But why did he have to come up here to be with the girl? He could’ve pretended to be a pirate anywhere.”
Holman shrugged.
“Why’d he rob thirteen banks dressed like a commando? Freaks happen.”
Holman wasn’t sure she heard him. She was still staring down into Hollywood. Then she shook her head.
“No, Holman, coming up here was important to him. It meant something. That’s one of the things they taught us at Quantico. Even madness has meaning.”
“You think that money was up here?”
She shook her head, but she was still staring down into the canyon.
“No. No, you’re right about that. They didn’t bury sixteen million dollars up here, and Fowler and your boy sure as hell didn’t find it and dig it up. That hole would look like a bomb crater.”
“Okay.”
She pointed down toward the city.
“But he lived right down there in Beachwood Canyon. You see it? Every day when he stepped out of his apartment, he could look up and see this sign. Maybe they didn’t keep the money in their apartment or hide it up here, but something about this place made him feel safe and powerful. That’s why he brought the girl up here.”
“You can see forever. Maybe it made him feel like he was in a crow’s nest, like on one of those old sailing ships.”
Pollard still wasn’t looking at him. She was staring down into Beachwood Canyon like the answers to all of her questions were waiting to be found.
“I don’t think so, Holman. Remember what Alison told Marki? It always had to be here. He couldn’t perform without his fantasies, and the fantasies were about treasure-having sex on the money. Money equals power. Power equals sex. Being here made him feel close to his money, and the money gave him the power to have sex.”
She looked at him.
“Fowler and your son could have picked up dirt and grass in any vacant lot in L.A., but if they knew what Alison knew, they would have come up here. Look around. It isn’t that big. Just look.”
Pollard walked off into the brush, scanning the ground as if she had lost her car keys. Holman thought they were wasting their time, but he turned in the opposite direction.
The only man-made artifact on the summit was a device Holman thought looked like a metal scarecrow. Holman had seen it before. The scarecrow had been set into the ground years ago and bore what appeared to be U.S. Geological Survey markings. Holman guessed it was something for monitoring seismic activity, but he didn’t know.
Holman was in a brushy area ten feet beyond the cage when he found the turned earth.
“Pollard! Agent Pollard!”
It was a small egg-shaped depression about a foot across. The darker, turned earth at its center stood out from the surrounding undisturbed ground.
Pollard appeared at his side, then knelt by the depression. She probed the turned soil with her fingers and tested the surrounding area. She scooped a handful of loose soil from the center, then scooped more. By clearing away the loose soil, she revealed a hard perimeter. She continued clearing loose soil until she finally sat back on her heels. It hadn’t taken long.
Holman said, “What is it?”
She looked at him.
“It’s a hole…Holman. See the hard edge where the shovel bit? Someone dug up something. You saw how it was a depression? Someone removed something, so there wasn’t enough dirt to fill the empty space when they refilled the hole. Hence, the depression.”
“Anyone could have dug this.”
“Yes, anyone could have dug it. But how many people would be up here digging, and what could have been here that someone would want to remove?”
“They had sixteen million dollars. You couldn’t fit sixteen million in a little hole like that.”
Pollard stood, and then both of them stared down at the hole.
“No, but you could hide something that led to the sixteen million-GPS coordinates, an address, keys-”
Holman said, “A treasure map.”
“Yep. Even a pirate’s treasure map.”
Holman glanced up, but Pollard was walking away. He looked down at the hole again as an emptiness grew in his heart. The hole in his heart was larger than this little hole and felt larger than the canyon beneath the Hollywood Sign. It was the emptiness of a father who had failed his only child and cost that child his life.
Richie had not been a good man.
Richie had made a play for the money.
And now Richie had paid the price.
Holman heard Donna’s voice echoing across the cavernous emptiness that filled him, the same four words over and over:
Like father, like son.
38
POLLARD BRUSHED at the dirt on her hands, wishing she had a Handi Wipe. Dirt was caked under her nails and would be hell to get out, but she didn’t care. Pollard had a high level of confidence the hole was connected with Marchenko and Parsons and the search for their money, but confidence wasn’t proof. She opened her phone. The signal bars showed she had an excellent connection, but she didn’t yet place the call. A man accompanied by a white dog was hiking up the fire road below the summit. She watched them, then considered the cameras perched on their poles, and decided that at least one of the cameras probably included a view of the fire road. The
