Hostage

8

Friday, 7:40 P.M.

TALLEY

The helicopters over York Estates switched on their lights to become brilliant stars. Talley didn’t like losing the sun. The creeping darkness changed the psychology of hostage takers and police officers alike. Subjects felt safer in the dark, hidden and more powerful, the night allowing them fantasies of escape. Perimeter guards knew this, so their stress level would rise as their efficiency decayed. Night laid the foundation for overreaction and death.

Talley stood by his car, sipping Diet Coke as his officers reported. Rooney’s employer, who believed that he could identify the unknown subject, had been located and was inbound; Walter Smith’s wife had not yet been found; Rooney’s parole officer from the Ant Farm had been identified but was in transit to Las Vegas for the weekend and could not be reached; ten large pizzas (half veggie, half meat) had just been delivered from Domino’s, but someone had forgotten napkins. Information was coming in so fast that Talley began to lose track, and it would come faster. He cursed that the Sheriffs hadn’t yet arrived.

Barry Peters and Earl Robb trotted up the street from their radio car. Robb was carrying his Maglite.

“We’re set with the phone company, Chief. PacBell shows six hard lines into the house, four of them listed, two unlisted. They blocked all six in and out like you wanted. No one else can call in on those numbers, and the only number they can reach calling out is your cell.”

Talley felt a dull relief; now he didn’t have to worry that some asshole would get the Smiths’ number and convince Rooney to murder his hostages.

“Good, Earl. Did we get more bodies from the Highway Patrol?”

“Four more ChiPs and two cars from Santa Clarita.”

“Put them on the perimeter. Have Jorgenson do it, because he knows what I told Rooney.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robb trotted away as Peters turned on his Maglite, lighting two floor plan sketches that had been made on typing paper.

“I worked these out with the neighbors, Chief. This is the upstairs, this is the downstairs.”

Talley grunted. They weren’t bad, but he wasn’t confident that they were accurate; details like window placement and closet location could be critical if a forced entry was required. Talley asked about architectural drawings.

“These are the best I could do; there wasn’t anything at the building commission.”

“There should be. This is a planned community. Every house plan in the development should be on file.”

Peters looked upset and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, Chief. I called both the Antelope Valley and Santa Clarita building commissions, but they don’t have anything, either. You want me to try something else?”

“The Sheriffs are going to need those plans, Barry. Get hold of someone from the mayor’s office or one of the council people. Sarah has their home and work numbers. Tell them we need access to the permit office right away. Pull the permits you find and check the contractors. Somebody had to keep a set of file plans.”

As Peters hustled away, Larry Anders’s car rolled around the corner and pulled to a stop beside Talley. A slim, nervous man climbed from the passenger side.

“Chief, this is Brad Dill, Rooney’s employer.”

“Thanks for coming, Mr. Dill.”

“Okay.”

Talley knew that Dill owned a small cement-contracting business based in Lancaster. Dill had weathered skin from working in the sun and small eyes that kept glancing somewhere else. He had trouble maintaining eye contact.

“You know what’s going on here, Mr. Dill?”

Dill glanced up the street past Talley, then inspected the ground. Nervous.

“Okay, the officer told me. I just want to say I didn’t know anything about this. I didn’t know what they were going to do.”

Talley thought that Dill probably had a criminal record.

“Mr. Dill, those two didn’t know what they were going to do until they did it. Don’t worry about it. You’re here because you’ve worked with them and I’m hoping you can help me understand them. You see?”

“Okay. Sure. I’ve known Dennis for almost two years now, Kevin a little less.”

“Before we get into that, I want you to identify these guys. Officer Anders says you also know the third subject?”

“Okay. Sure. That would be Mars.”

“Let’s look at the pictures. Larry, do you have them?”

Anders returned to the car and brought back the two 8 ? 10 prints that had been made from the security tape. He had to return to his car a second time for his Maglite. Soon they would have to move into one of the houses. Talley wondered if Mrs. Pena would let them use hers.

“Okay, Mr. Dill. Let’s take a look. Can you identify these people?”

The first picture showed a slightly fuzzy Kevin Rooney by the front door; Dennis and the third man were clearly visible in the second print. Talley was pleased with the prints. Anders had done a good job.

“Okay. Sure. That’s Kevin, he’s Dennis’s kid brother. And that one is Dennis. He just come back from the Ant Farm.”

“And you know the third man?”

“That would be Mars Krupchek. He come on the job about a month ago. No, wait, not quite four weeks, I guess. Him, I don’t know so well.”

Anders nodded along with Dill, confirming what he had heard earlier.

“I called Krupchek in to Sarah on the drive, Chief. She’s running his name through DMV and the NCIC.”

Talley questioned Dill about how Dennis behaved on the job. Dill described a temperamental personality with a penchant for overstatement and drama. Talley grew convinced that his original impression was correct: Rooney was an aggressive narcissist with esteem problems. Kevin, on the other hand, showed evidence of concern for others; where Dennis would show up for work late and expend little effort on the job, Kevin showed up on time and was willing to help others; he was a passive personality who would take his cues from the stronger personalities in his sphere of influence. He would never drive an action, but would instead react to whatever was presented to him.

Talley paused to consider if he was missing an obvious avenue of questioning. He took the Maglite from Anders to look at the photograph of Kevin, then decided to move on to Mars Krupchek. He had been concerned about Mars since he had seen the unknown subject lean over the counter to watch Junior Kim die. Talley noticed something on the 8 ? 10 of Mars that he hadn’t seen in the security tape. A tattoo on the back of Mars’s head that read: burn it.

“What can you tell me about Krupchek?”

“Not so much. He showed up one day looking for work when I needed a guy. He was well-spoken and polite; he’s big and strong, you know, so I gave him a try.”

“Did he know the Rooneys before he came on the job?”

“No, I know that for a fact. I introduced them. You know, Mars this is Dennis, Dennis this is Mars. Like that. Mars just kinda stays by himself except for when he’s with Dennis.”

Talley pointed out the tattoo.

“What’s this mean, ‘Burn it’?”

“I dunno. It’s just a tattoo.”

Talley glanced at Anders.

“Did you put out the tattoo as an identifier?”

“Yes, sir.”

Identities on the NCIC computer could be cross-checked by permanent identifiers like tattoos and scars. Talley turned back to Brad Dill.

“You know what he did before this?”

“No, sir. Nope.”

“Know where he’s from?”

“He doesn’t talk so much. You ask him, he doesn’t say so much.”

“How does he get along with the other men?”

“Well enough, I guess. He never had much to do with anyone until Dennis came back. That was only a week or so ago. Before Dennis came back, he would just stay by himself and watch everyone else.”

“What do you mean, watch everyone else?”

“I don’t know if I’m saying it right. When the guys go on a break, he doesn’t sit with’m. He sits off by himself and watches them, kinda like he was keeping an eye on them. No, wait, that’s not right. It was more like he’s watching TV. Does that make sense? Sometimes it’d make me think he’d fallen asleep the way he’d do that. He was just, I dunno, staring.”

Talley didn’t like what he was hearing about Krupchek, but he also didn’t know what to make of it.

“Has he ever demonstrated violence or aggression toward the other men?”

“He just sits there.”

Talley handed the photograph back to Anders. Mars Krupchek might be retarded or suffer from some other mental impairment, but Talley didn’t know. He had no sense of who Mars Krupchek was, what he was capable of, or how he might act. This left Talley feeling anxious and wary. The unknown could kill you, and was often worse than you imagined.

“Mr. Dill, do you have an address for Krupchek?”

Dill pulled a tiny address book from his back pocket and read off an address and phone number. Anders copied them.

Talley thanked Brad Dill for his help, told him that Anders would bring him home, then took Anders aside out of earshot.

“Check that Krupchek’s address matches with the billing address listed with the phone. If it does, call the Palmdale City Attorney’s office and ask for a telephonic search warrant, then head to his residence. After you’ve got the warrant, go in and see what you find. Take someone with you.”

As Anders and Dill drove away, Talley tried to recall the things that he still needed to do. Mrs. Smith had to be found, his officers had to be fed, and he wanted to check the perimeter positions of the newly arrived Highway Patrol officers to make sure that Jorgenson hadn’t placed them too close to the house. When he realized that he would have to call Rooney again soon, a swell of panic threatened to overwhelm him. He would have to call Rooney every hour throughout the night; interrupt his sleep, break down his resistance, wear him down. A hostage barricade was a war of attrition and nerves. Talley didn’t know that his own nerves were enough to see it through.

Metzger’s voice cut through his radio.

“Chief, Metzger.”

“Go, Leigh.”

“The Sheriffs are inbound. Ten minutes out.” Talley slumped against his car and closed his eyes. Thank God.

DENNIS

Dennis tried not to look at Mars after his conversation with Talley, but he couldn’t help himself. He thought about what Kevin had told him, about Mars wanting to shoot that cop who had come to the door, about Mars lying that the cop had pulled his weapon and Mars firing first. Maybe Talley had something; maybe Dennis could beat the rap if it was Mars who shot the officer, and not him. If Kevin backed him up, they might be able to cut a deal with the prosecutor for their testimony against Mars. Dennis felt a desperate hope, but then he remembered the money. If he cut a deal, he had to give up the money. He shoved the phone aside and turned back to the others. He wasn’t ready to give up the cash.

Kevin looked at him anxiously.

“Are they giving us the helicopter?”

“No. We gotta find another way out of here. Let’s start looking.”

The girl and her fat brother were still kneeling beside their father. She started on him right away.

“There’s nothing to look for. You’ve got to do something to help my father.”

She still held the washcloth to her father’s head, but now the ice was melted and the cloth was soaked. Dennis felt a flash of annoyance.

“Shut up, all right? I’ve got a situation here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Her face worked harder.

“All you’re doing is watching yourself on TV. You hurt him. Look at him. He needs a doctor.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s been hours!”

“Put more ice in the cloth.”

“Ice doesn’t help!”

The fat boy started crying.

“He’s in a coma!”

The girl surprised him. She lurched to her feet with the abrupt fury of a jack-in-the-box and stomped toward the door.

“I’m getting a doctor!”

Dennis felt outside of himself, as if the weight of the cops and his being trapped in this house were all suddenly real where they hadn’t been before. He caught her in two steps, slapping her just the way his old man used to lay out the old lady, that shrill bitch. He caught the girl square on the side of the face with the weight of his hand, knocked her flat fucking down to the floor. The fat boy shouted her name and charged, pummeling Dennis like an angry midget. Dennis dug his fingers into the soft meat on the back of the boy’s neck, and the fat boy squealed. Then Kevin was shoving him away.

“STOP IT!”

Kevin pushed the fat boy down with his sister, placing himself between them and Dennis.

“Just stop it, Dennis. Please!”

Dennis was in a blood fury. He wanted to beat Kevin down, to smash his face and kick him into a pulp. He wanted to beat the fat boy and the girl, then throw the cash in the Jaguar and crash out of the garage and shoot it out with the cops all the way down to Mexico.

Mars was staring at him, his face a shadow, his eyes tiny glints of strange light like ferrets peering from caves.

Dennis shouted, “What?”

Mars made the quiet smile and shook his head.

Dennis stepped back, breathing hard. Everything was coming apart. Dennis looked back at the television, half expecting to see the cops storming the house, but the scene outside was exactly as it had been minutes before. The girl was holding her face in her hands. The fat boy was glaring with hate-filled eyes like he wanted to cut Dennis’s throat. Their father was breathing noisily through his nose. The pressure was making him crazy.

Dennis said, “We gotta do something with them. I can’t deal with this shit.”

Mars lumbered to his feet, large and gross.

“We should tie them up so we don’t have to worry about them. We should have done that anyway.”

Dennis hooked his head toward the girl, speaking to Kevin.

“Mars is right. We can’t leave these assholes running around like this, getting in the way. Find something to tie’m up with, and take them upstairs.”

“What do I use to tie them?”

“Look in the garage. Look in the kitchen. Mars, you find something, okay? You know what we need. This turd doesn’t know anything.”

Mars disappeared toward the garage. Kevin took the girl’s arm as if he was afraid that she would hit him, but she stood without resisting, her face working and the tears coming harder.

“What about my father? You can’t just leave him like this.”

Her father was cold to the touch; every few seconds a tremor rippled through his body. Dennis took his pulse like he knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t tell a goddamned thing. He didn’t like how the man looked, but didn’t say anything about it because there was nothing to say.

“We’ll put him on the couch. That way he’ll be more comfortable.”

“He needs a doctor.”

“He’s just sleeping. You take a head shot, you gotta sleep it off, is all. My old man used to beat me worse than this.”

Dennis had Kevin help lift her father onto the couch.

When Mars returned, Dennis told them to take the kids upstairs. He was tired of thinking about them. He was tired of thinking about everything except the money. He needed a way out.

JENNIFER

Mars opened the door to her room, then stepped aside so that she and Kevin could enter. He had come back from the garage with extension cords, duct tape, a hammer and nails. He gave two extension cords to Kevin.

“Put her in here. Tie her to the chair, and tie her tight. Tie her feet. I’ll take care of the windows and the door when I finish with the boy.”

Mars looked at her with unfocused eyes, as if he were waking from a deep sleep and she was the memory of a dream.

“I’ll check how you tie her when I come back.”

Mars pulled Thomas away as Kevin brought her into the room. The lights were on because she never turned them off; she fell asleep with them on, either talking on the phone or watching TV, and woke with them on, and never thought to turn them off when she left to start her day. The shades had been pulled and the phone was on the floor against the wall, its plug smashed so that it couldn’t be used. Kevin dragged her desk chair into the middle of the floor. He avoided her eyes, nervous.

“Just let this happen and everything will be okay. You gotta pee or anything?”

She felt a flush of embarrassment. She had to use the bathroom so badly that she burned.

“It’s in there.”

“Where? You got your own bathroom?”

“Uh-huh. It’s right there.”

“Okay, come on.”

She didn’t move.

“You can’t come with me.”

He stood in the bathroom door, waiting.

“I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“I’m not going to the bathroom in front of you.”

“Would you rather pee on yourself?”

“I’m not letting you watch. I don’t have guns or anything in there, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He seemed annoyed, but she didn’t care. He stepped into the bathroom to look around, then came back.

“Okay, I won’t go in with you, but you can’t close the door. I’ll stand over here. That way I can’t see you.”

“But you’ll hear.”

“Look, piss or don’t piss. I don’t care. If you’re not going to go, put your ass in the chair before Mars comes back.”

Jennifer had to pee so badly that she decided to go. She tried to pee quietly, but it seemed louder than ever. When she was finished, she returned to her room too embarrassed to make eye contact.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Whatever. Sit here and put your hands behind the chair.”

“I don’t see why you can’t just lock me in. It’s not like I can go anywhere.”

“Either I’m going to tie you or Mars will tie you.”

She perched on the chair, tense and wary.

Kevin had two long black extension cords. She cringed when he touched her, but he didn’t treat her roughly or twist her arms.

“I don’t want to make this too tight, but I got to tie you. Mars is going to check.”

His voice held a regret that surprised her. She knew that Kevin was scared, but now she wondered if he felt embarrassed at what they were doing. Maybe he even had a conscience. He finished with her wrists, then moved around in front of her to tie her ankles to the legs of the chair. She watched him, thinking that if there was a friend to be found among them it was him.

“Kevin?”

“What?”

She kept her voice soft, scared that Mars would hear.

“You’re caught in this just like me.”

His face darkened.

“I’ve heard the three of you talking. You’re the only one who seems to know that you’re making it worse by being here. Dennis doesn’t get that.”

“Don’t talk about Dennis.”

“Why do you go along with him?”

“Things just happen, is all. Don’t talk about it.”

“My father needs a doctor.”

“He’s just knocked out. I’ve been knocked out.”

“You know it’s worse than that. Think about what you’re doing, Kevin, please. Make Dennis see. If my father dies they’ll charge you with his murder, too. You know that.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“You knew better than to rob that minimart, didn’t you? I’ll bet you tried to talk Dennis out of it, but he wouldn’t listen and now you’re all trapped in here and wanted for murder.”

He kept his face down, pulling at the extension cords.

“I’ll bet that’s true. You knew it was wrong, and it was. Now you know this is wrong, too. My daddy needs a doctor, but Dennis is just being stubborn. If you keep following Dennis and Mars, the police will kill you all.”

Kevin leaned back on his heels. He seemed tired, as if he had been worrying the problem for so long without solution that the worrying had worn him out. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

A shadow moved behind Kevin, catching Jennifer’s eye. Mars stood in the door, staring at them, his face blank. She didn’t know how long he had been there, or what he had heard.

Mars didn’t look at Kevin; he was staring at her.

“Never be sorry.”

Kevin stood so quickly that he almost fell.

“I tied her ankles too tight. I had to tie them again.”

Mars went to the windows. He hammered heavy nails into the sills so that the windows wouldn’t open, then came back to stand in front of her. He stood very close, towering over her in a way that made him seem to reach the ceiling. He squatted between her legs, then tugged at the bindings on her ankles. The cord cut into her skin.

“This isn’t tight enough. You tied her like a pussy.”

Mars wrapped the cord more tightly, then did the same at her wrists. The wire cut into her flesh so hard that she had to bite her tongue, but she was too scared to complain. He tore a strip of wide gray duct tape off the roll. He pressed it hard over her mouth.

Kevin worried his hands, fidgeting, clearly frightened of Mars.

“Make sure she can breathe, Mars. Don’t put it so tight.” Mars ran his fingers hard over the tape. She was so creeped out at his touch that she wanted to scream.

“Go downstairs, Kevin.”

Kevin hesitated at the door. Mars still knelt in front of her, pushing at the tape as if he wanted to work it into her pores. Pushing and pushing. Rhythmic. Pushing. Jennifer thought she might faint.

Kevin said, “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll be along. Go.”

Jennifer looked at Kevin, pleading with him not to leave her alone with Mars.

Kevin left.

When she finally looked at Mars again, he was watching her. Mars brought his face level with hers, then leaned forward. She flinched, thinking he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. He didn’t move for the longest time, staring first into her left eye, then into her right. He leaned closer, and sniffed. He was smelling her.

Mars straightened.

“I want to show you something.”

He pulled off his shirt, revealing a flabby body as pasty as an unwashed bedsheet. Tattooed across his chest in flowing script was:

A Mother’s Son.

“You see? It cost two hundred forty dollars. That’s how much I love my mom.”

Looking at him grossed her out. His chest and belly were specked with small gray knots as if he were diseased. She thought they might be warts.

She suddenly felt the weight of his eyes and glanced up to see him watching her. She realized that he knew she had been staring at the lumps. He touched one of them, a hard gray knot, then another, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smile that was almost too small to see.

“My mom burned me with cigarettes.”

Jennifer felt sick. They weren’t lumps or warts; they were scars.

Mars pulled on his shirt, then leaned close, and this time she was certain that he would touch her. Her heart pounded. She wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t.

He placed his hand on her shoulder.

Jennifer jerked against her binds, twisting her head, arching her back, feeling the bite of the extension cords in her wrists and ankles as she tried to scream through the tape.

Mars squeezed her shoulder once, firmly, as if he were testing the bone beneath her flesh, and then he drew away.

Mars made the little smile again, then went to the door. He paused there, staring at her with eyes so empty that she filled them with nightmares. He turned off the lights, stepped out, then pulled the door closed. The sound of his hammer was as loud as thunder, but not so loud as her fearful heart.

DENNIS

Dennis was at the window, watching the police, when he heard the pitch of the helicopters change. That was the first thing, the helicopters repositioning themselves. Then one of the patrol cars out front fired up. The lead car swung around in a tight arc, roaring away as a new Highway Patrol car arrived. He couldn’t tell if Talley was still outside or not. The cops were up to something, which made Dennis feel queasy and scared. They would have to leave soon or they might not be able to leave at all.

Mars settled onto the couch by Walter Smith. He put his hand on Smith’s head as if he was stroking the soft fur between a dog’s ears.

“They didn’t give you the helicopter because they don’t believe you’re serious.”

Dennis paced away from the window, irritated. He didn’t like Mars’s smug I-know-something-that-you-don’t smile. Mars had egged him on about robbing the minimart, and Mars had shot the cop at the front door.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. They’ve got rules about this stuff. Fuck them anyway. I never thought we’d get a helicopter. I just thought it would be worth a try.”

Mars stroked Smith’s head, running his fingers slowly over the man’s scalp as if he was probing the contours of his skull. Dennis thought it was weird.

“You don’t see the big picture, Dennis.”

“You want a picture, Mars? Here it is: We’ve gotta find a way out of here with that cash.”

Mars patted Smith’s head.

“Our way out is right here. You don’t understand the power we have.”

“The hostages? Jesus, they’re all we have. If we didn’t have these people, the cops would be all over us.”

When Mars looked up again, Dennis thought his eyes were brighter, and somehow now watchful.

“What we have is the fear they feel. Their fear gives us power. The police will only take us seriously if they’re scared we’ll kill these people. It isn’t the people that we have to trade, Dennis. It’s their death.”

Dennis thought he was kidding.

“Okay, dude. Mars, you’re creeping me out.”

“The police have no reason to deal with us unless they take us seriously. All they have to do is wait until we get tired, and then we’ll give up. They know that, Dennis. They’re counting on it.”

Dennis felt his chest expand against a tight pressure that filled the room. Mars continued to watch him, his eyes now focused into hard, dark beads. Dennis had the vague feeling that somehow the power between them was shifting, that Mars was leading him somewhere and waiting to see if Dennis would follow.

“So how do we convince them?”

“Tell them we’re going to let the fat boy go as a sign of good faith.”

Dennis didn’t move. He could see Kevin from the corner of his eye, and knew that Kevin was feeling the same awful pressure.

“We send the fat boy out the front door. We don’t go with him, we just open it and tell him to go. He just has to walk across the yard here and out to the cars, and he’ll be fine. Your pal, Talley, he’ll probably call the kid over, saying something like, ‘C’mon, son, everything is fine.’”

Dennis’s back felt wet and cold.

“We wait until he’s about halfway across the yard, then we shoot him.”

Dennis heard his own heartbeat. He heard his breath flow across his teeth, a faraway hiss.

Mars spread his hands at the simple beauty of it.

“Then they’ll know we mean business, and we’ll have something to trade.”

Dennis tried to tell himself that Mars was kidding, but he knew that Mars was serious. Mars meant every word.

“Mars. We couldn’t do something like that.”

Mars looked curious.

“I could. I’ll do it, if you want.”

Dennis didn’t know what to say. Overhead, the helicopters beat louder. He went to the shutters and pretended to look out, but the truth was that he couldn’t look at Mars any longer. Mars had scared him.

“I don’t think so, dude.”

“You don’t?”

“No. We couldn’t do that.”

The bright intensity in Mars’s eyes faded like a candle losing its flame, and Mars shrugged. Dennis felt relieved. He told them to watch out for the cops, then he once more walked through the house. He went into every downstairs room around the perimeter of the house, checking each window to see if he could use it to sneak out, but all of the windows were in plain view of the cops. Dennis knew that his time was running out. If he was going to get out, he had to do it soon, because more cops were on the way. He moved along the rear of the house, through the family room and into the garage. He hoped to find some kind of side door, but instead he came to a small utility bathroom at the end of a workshop off the garage. A sliding window with frosted glass was let into the wall above the sink. Dennis opened it, and saw the heavy leaves of an oleander bush, dark green and pointed, thick against the dusty screen. He pressed his face to the screen and peered out, but it was impossible to see very much in the growing darkness. The window was on the street side of the wall that enclosed the backyard, but was hidden by the oleander. If the oleander wasn’t there the cops out front would be able to see him. Dennis pushed out the screen, taking care to do it quietly. He opened the window wider, crawled up onto the sink, and leaned out. He would never have done this in the daylight, but the darkness gave him confidence. The ground was four feet below. He worked his shoulders through the window. The row of oleanders followed the wall, but he couldn’t tell how far. He was growing excited. He pushed himself back into the house, then turned around so that he could step through feet first, one leg and then another. He lowered himself to the ground. He was outside the house.

Dennis crouched on the ground beneath the oleander, his back pressed to the high stucco wall, listening. He could hear the police radios from the cars parked at the front of the house. He caught tiny glimpses of the two cars through the leaves, glinting in the streetlight. He couldn’t see the cops, but he knew they would be watching the front of the house, not the row of shrubs along the side wall. Dennis lay down at the base of the wall and inched along its length. The oleanders were thicker in some places and thinner in others, but the police didn’t see him. He came to the end of the wall and saw that the oleanders continued into the neighbor’s front yard. Dennis grew more excited. They could bag the cash, drag it along behind the oleanders, then slip away while the cops were watching the house, right under their noses!

Dennis worked his way back to the window and climbed into the house. Dennis was pumped! He was going to beat this thing! He was going to beat Talley, beat the murder rap, and cruise south to TJ in style.

He ran back to the office to tell Kevin and Mars that he had found the way out.

MARION CLEWES

The planet Venus hung low in the blackening western sky, racing toward the ridge of mountains and the edge of Talley’s roof. The stars were not yet out, but here in the high desert, away from the city, the sky would soon be washed with lights.

Talley’s condominium was one of forty-eight stucco and stained-wood units spread over four buildings arranged like the letter H. Mature eucalyptus and podocarpus trees shouldered over the buildings like drunks leaning over a rail. Marion guessed that the condos had at one time been apartments, then converted and sold. Each unit had a small fenced patio at ground level, and centered between the four buildings was a very nice pool; small, unprotected parking lots were on either side of each building for the residents. It seemed like a pleasant place to live.

Marion walked through the grounds, hearing music and voices. Cars were turning into the parking lots, men and women still arriving from work; an older woman was methodically swimming laps, the pool’s lone occupant; charcoal grills were smoking on several of the patios, filling the air with the smells of burning flesh.

Marion circled the building with Talley’s unit. Because the buildings were of older construction (Marion guessed they had been built in the seventies), the gas meters, electric meters, and junction boxes for both telephones and cable TV were clustered together at an out-of-the-way spot opposite the parking lots. Any individual security systems would be junctioned with the telephone lines. Marion was pleased to see that the building had no alarms. Marion was neither surprised nor shocked; being a sleepy small town so far from LA, the greatest security the condo association might buy would be having a rent-a-cop cruise the parking lots every hour. If that.

Marion found Talley’s unit, let himself through the gate to the front door. He clenched his jaw so as not to laugh; the patio and door were hidden by a six-foot privacy fence. He couldn’t have asked for anything easier. He rang the bell twice, then knocked, already knowing that no one was home; the house was dark. He pulled on latex gloves, took out his pry bar and pick, then set to work. Four minutes later, the deadbolt slipped. Eighty seconds after that, he let himself in.

“Hello?”

He didn’t expect an answer, and none came. Marion shut the door behind him, but did not lock it.

The kitchen was to the left, a small dining room to the right. Sliding glass doors offered a view of the patio. Directly ahead was a large living room with a fireplace. Marion looked for a desk or work space, but saw none. He unlatched the glass doors, then crossed the living room to open the largest window. He would relock everything if he left at his leisure, but for now he arranged fast exits. Howell did not want Talley dead, so Marion would try not to kill him even if Talley surprised him.

Marion climbed steep stairs to a second-floor landing with doors leading to a bathroom and two other rooms, the room to his right the master bedroom. He turned on the light. Marion expected to search every closet and drawer in the house for something that could be used as leverage, but there it was as soon as he entered, right there, waiting. It happened that way, sometimes.

A desk rested against the far wall, scattered with papers and bills and receipts, but that isn’t what caught Marion’s eye. Five photographs waited at the back of the desk, Talley with a woman and girl, the woman and Talley always the same, the girl at different ages.

Marion kneeled, brought the frame to his face.

A woman. A girl.

A wife. A daughter.

Marion considered the possibilities.