Gone

CHAPTER 75

Beach City Customs was south of LAX on the Pacific Coast Highway, in a commercial section of Manhattan Beach known as the Sepulveda Strip.

Diaz quickly tapped me on the shoulder as we were about to pull into its parking lot.

“What’s up, John?” I said.

“Wait a sec. Drive around the block, would you?”

“OK,” I said, continuing on and taking the corner past the body shop.

“How much do you want to find this guy Perrine?” Diaz said. “I mean, how much, really?”

“He put out a hit on my family, John,” I said, looking at the LAPD cop in the rearview. “I want him as badly as humanly possible.”

“I figured,” Diaz said. “See, this guy Tomás is going to be hard-core and definitely not stupid. If he’s helping out Perrine, there’s no way he’s going to voluntarily come with us to be questioned. There’s no way he’s going to cooperate.”

“I take it you have another idea?” Emily said.

Diaz nodded.

“Back in the late nineties, we had a scandal out here with a gang unit called CRASH. These CRASH cops went off the rails. They framed gang members, beat up on them. The sergeants used to give out awards if a gang member was shot.”

“Your point being?”

“These gang guys remember CRASH. In fact, more often than not, during an arrest they and their defense lawyers claim we’re up to our old tricks. I’m just thinking we might be able to use the rep of these crazy CRASH guys to put a little pressure on our friend Tomás.”

“What do you mean? You want to frame him or something?” Emily said.

“No, of course not,” Diaz said. “But what if we … I don’t know … pretended to?”

“Yeah?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Emily said.

I smiled.

“I don’t know, either, Emily. But the director did tell us to get creative, to think outside the box. Besides, we need information, not evidence. It would never make it into court.”

“Exactly,” Diaz said. “It would be a bluff all the way, but at this point, that’s all we got. We need to do something.”

“Fine,” Emily said. “You’re right. This is beyond everything at this point. Count me in. I think.”

“What do we have to do, Diaz?” I said.

Diaz pointed at a CVS pharmacy on the corner to our left.

“Pull in here,” he said. “I need to pick up a few things.”