“Mrs. Fatzoid?” Mitch questioned.
“Gretchen Flannigan,” the deputy said. “She lives two blocks over.”
Mitch shook his head. “Josh, I’m not going to get your mom in trouble.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.” He crossed his arms, still suspicious.
“Deputy Pierson says that you have information about who hurt Ms. Lane tonight.”
“Lora’s dead, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Mitch said. “Was she a friend of yours?”
Josh shrugged. “She was weird, but nice. My mom said she wasn’t right in the head, and to be nice to her. So I was. But my mom also said that Lora was smarter than people thought she was.”
“What did you see tonight?”
“The Mercedes.”
“Mercedes?”
“Yeah, an S550. My dad was a mechanic. He knew everything about cars. I only know a little.”
“Where’s your dad now?”
“He died a long time ago. When I was eight.”
Mitch assessed the kid. Ten? Yeah, he looked ten. He acted much older.
“Okay, Josh, tell me everything you saw or heard from the time your mom left for work, which was”-he checked his notes-“five thirty.”
“Mom left. Um, she said no one could come over, but Andy down the street came by for an hour to play my new Wii game, Lego Indiana Jones. Did you see the movie? It was hot.”
“Cool.”
“When did Andy leave?”
“Six thirty. He had to be home for dinner. And then I played some more; later I heard voices outside so I looked. It was the gang of five.”
“Gang?”
“Yeah. The vets. Two from World War Two, one from Korea, two from Vietnam. My mom and I make them cookies on the weekends, and they go to the Rabbit Hole almost every night. They never leave that early. They were talking loudly, and I didn’t really hear anything accept that Tip was arrested for something. Then Lora walked by and crossed at the corner-it would be faster if she just cut through the street, but she always crosses at the crosswalk-and went home. I almost went over-Lora is real nice to me-but then the Mercedes drove up and the two men got out.”
“Can you describe them?”
“Not really.” He shrugged. “It was dark.”
“Would you recognize them again if you saw them?”
“No. But I’d recognize the car. There’re not a lot of S550s out there, and this one was custom.”
“How could you tell?”
“The spoiler on the tail, for one. And there was a valance on the front, but I didn’t get as good a look at it. The S550 doesn’t come standard with spoilers.”
“You have a good eye, Josh. Your dad would be proud.”
He squirmed. “Thanks.”
“Anything else? Do you know how long they were inside?” Mitch knew the kill had been quick.
“Like twenty minutes. Maybe more.”
That surprised Mitch.
“They were taking boxes from the house. Lora was helping them. They were shoeboxes, I think. A bunch of them. They put them in the trunk of the car. Then they went back inside, came out a couple minutes later, and drove off.”
“What time?”
“Before nine. That’s when
Mitch asked the deputy to escort Josh to another office until his mother arrived. He turned to Grant. “How many Mercedes S550s are registered in Sacramento and surrounding counties?”
“I already sent Kent a query. He should have a list shortly.”
“How does this connect to Frank Lowe? Or Tom O’Brien for that matter?”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Grant said. “Could be a coincidence, and maybe they thought Claire was snooping around about their drug smuggling. Anytime you put illegal drugs into the mix, you have problems. But I’ve already talked to the DEA and they’re calling in their regional agents to see if there’s anything out there that ties Isleton or Lora Lane, Frank Lowe, or Tip Barney to drug smuggling, Rohypnol, or anything else.”
Mitch didn’t think this had anything to do with drugs. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Meg had called him earlier, and Claire was awake and under guard. She would be going home in the morning. Mitch wished he could have been the one sitting at her door, but with Steve out of commission, he was the only one who knew the principals of the case. And Claire didn’t want him around. It was more important to find out who tried to kill her, who’d killed Maddox, and who’d framed Tom O’Brien.
He glanced at his watch-3:30. He needed a couple hours’ sleep before heading to Mather Field, where Don Collier was being brought in on a military transport plane at ten a.m.
“I’ll drive,” Grant said, as if reading Mitch’s thoughts. “My team is here for the night, no one is getting into the Lane house or the Rabbit Hole. We’ll sit tight and finish processing the evidence, but you need to sleep or you’ll be a damn good target for the bastard who shot Donovan.”
THIRTY-SIX
Claire dressed in jeans and a T-shirt Jayne had brought over for her late the night before. It was six in the morning and she was already antsy. Her doctor had promised he’d come by early, and she was ready to leave the hospital as soon as he signed the papers.
She’d tried to leave earlier, but Agent Warren had orders to keep her until she was cleared by the doctor. She considered just walking out, but decided to sit tight for a couple hours. Worried about her father, Claire felt like she’d been run over by a truck.
The door opened and Agent Warren said, “There’s a Bill Kamanski and Sergeant Dave Kamanski to see you. Their IDs check out.”
“Thanks.”
Dave and Bill entered, both father and son wearing worried expressions. “I’m fine,” Claire said automatically.
Dave crossed the room and gave her a hug. “When Dad told me about the accident-I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, Claire. What were you thinking? What have you been doing?”
“I’m okay. And you probably know what I’ve been doing.”
“Not really.” Dave glanced at his father, his expression unreadable, but Claire feared that Bill helping her may have been a contentious issue between them.
Bill kissed Claire on the forehead. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re okay.”
“I’m waiting for the doctor to sign me out of here. I just want to go home.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about Tom’s surrender?” Dave asked.
“Dave, leave her be.”
“It’s okay, Bill.” Claire took a deep breath. These two men had stood by her for the last fifteen years, and
