“Quiet, Riley,” Will threw back at the dog, who had been barking ever since his arrival. To the cop, he said, “You have a partial on the Chevy’s license plate?”
“Yes. We’re running it now. So far we’re not coming up with any matches. They may have switched plates with another car.” Wray hesitated. “If you’re right about this being the same car that nearly hit Special Agent MacAllister on Saturday, they’ve been tracking him for some time.”
Why the hell hadn’t Taylor listened to him? Why the hell did he always have to be such a damn bullhead? Except…Taylor had listened to Will last night. He’d stayed at Will’s place like Will wanted. Will was the one who failed. If he’d been here…
He shoved it aside, questioned, “ID on the perps?”
“Two. Male and female. The witness didn’t get a clear look at the male. She thought he might have been Asian. Midtwenties. Possible gang tattoos. A little shorter than your partner and a little heavier. She thought he hit MacAllister with some kind of karate chop or martial arts move.”
“And the woman?”
“The woman is described as older, maybe even early fifties. Tall, athletic, Caucasian, brown hair. Our witness got a good look at her; she’s going through mug shots now.”
Will nodded. If Taylor’s attackers were not professional criminals, how useful were mug shots going to be?
“Any chance this is tied to a case he’s working?” Wray asked.
“Doubtful. MacAllister was on sick leave for eight weeks and then desk duty for another month. He was only cleared for active duty this week, and it’s a routine protection detail.”
“Then it’s something personal.”
Reluctantly, Will said, “It looks that way.”
“Did your partner have any recent run-ins with anyone?”
Will filled Wray in on the altercation at the Red Dragon restaurant.
She heard him out but seemed unconvinced. “Doesn’t really sound like the MO of any Latino gang I ever heard of.”
“I agree. And for what it’s worth, that was MacAllister’s take too.” Will knew he was going to have to tell her about the snake wine, the threatening note, and the dud bomb. He disliked cracking open the shell of Taylor’s close-guarded privacy, but privacy meant little compared to getting Taylor back alive and in one piece.
When he’d filled Lt. Wray in on everything he could remember, she said thoughtfully, “Did he have a theory about who was harassing him?”
“If he did, he didn’t share it.” Will admitted, “He was resistant to the idea.”
“Maybe so, but on the surface it sounds like someone was stalking him, all right.”
Old poison, thought Will. “He was stationed in Japan about eight years ago.”
“You believe there’s a tie-in?”
“Maybe. Not necessarily, though. He’s always been interested in Japan. He’s studied martial arts. He’s got a collection of Japanese weapons.” Will thought about the pistol he’d bought for Taylor’s birthday. It was a nice piece, an antique, but three thousand dollars wasn’t incentive for abduction or murder. Besides, if someone wanted that pistol, or any of Taylor’s collection, they’d have had the perfect opportunity to break into his house while he was staying at Will’s. No, this was about Taylor himself.
He added, as they walked toward Taylor’s MDX, “He could have pissed someone off at his dojo or when he was hanging around Little Tokyo. He can be…abrasive.”
“How abrasive?”
“I like him,” Will said evenly.
“Plus you have an alibi.” He must have looked unamused. Wray said, “Any chance he was snatched as a means of leverage in a case you’re working?”
“We’re not working the same case right now. We’ve been temporarily reassigned.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Will stopped walking. “What are you asking?”
Her eyes were hazel and direct. “I was partnered with a guy for six years. I understand the bond. Is it possible your partner was taken in an attempt to put pressure on you?”
“No.”
“What’s the full extent of your relationship with Special Agent MacAllister?”
Funny thing being on this side of a criminal investigation. Will found he didn’t like it at all. “We’re partners, and we’re best friends.”
“You’re both gay.”
Well, he had to give LAPD credit; they had done one hell of a lot of background work in less than four hours.
“That’s right.” He looked past her to the crime-scene investigator and asked if there were wrappings from the wine shipping box in the MDX.
Negative from the crime-scene personnel.
Will questioned, “What about a note? Japanese writing on plain white paper?”
Another negative.
Wray observed this interchange silently. When Will had finished, she said calmly, “Like I said, I understand the bond between partners, Special Agent Brandt, but this is an LAPD investigation — at least until the Feds yank it away from us. I’ll keep you up-to-date on any developments, but I expect your full cooperation.”
Will nodded tightly.
“And I’m going to have to insist that you leave the investigating to us.”
If Will’s nod had been any tighter, his neck would have snapped.
Untroubled, Wray moved forward, pointing to the tire tracks across Will’s lawn. “Agent Varga had them boxed in. You can see where they pulled forward and drove across your front yard and out your other neighbor’s driveway…”
* * * * *
It was hard to breathe. There was more dust than air permeating the hood seal of the trunk, and the combination of exhaust fumes and burned pollen was making him sick. Or maybe that was the taiko drum banging in his skull.
Boom, boom, boom, with every labored beat of his heart.
Something had happened…
He tried to piece together the picture of the last thing he remembered. Had Will been with him? He didn’t think so. It was confused…
The car
