In Dark Places

Chapter Fifty-two

For Hammond, everything was falling apart. They had failed to net Gray in Hollywood. The TV crews had been there to capture the debacle. That was bad enough. What was happening now was worse.

"I don't understand it," he said from the backseat as his driver chauffeured him and Lewinsky and Banner to the Hoover Street exit of the Santa Monica Freeway. "I just don't get it."

"Doesn't make sense," agreed Banner, sitting next to him. "Whole goddamn thing is spinning out of control."

Hammond gave Banner a warning glare. "No I-told-you-sos, Phil. I don't need any bullshit from you right now."

Banner frowned. "Just because this gamble of yours didn't pay off, you don't need to take it out on me."

"Why the hell not? I've got to take it out on somebody. Anyway, it's too soon to say it didn't pay off."

"Come on, Chief, it's a fucking catastrophe. We're talking Bay of Pigs here. We've got Sergeant Brand's car wrecked on the freeway. A DB inside that's probably Brand himself, and an armed carjacker ID'd as Justin Gray. It's a total meltdown."

"We don't know for sure it was Gray. The carjack vic might've been seeing things. You know how unreliable eyewitnesses are."

"That's a pretty thin branch to cling to," Banner groused.

"Are you forgetting the chain of command here, Lieutenant?"

"I'm not forgetting anything. Including the fact that I warned you not to stick your finger in this particular pie."

"That's an I-told-you-so. I don't want to hear any I-told-you-sos, God damn it."

"Sir?" Lewinsky broke in. "We're here."

The car had come to a stop on the left-hand shoulder of the freeway. Hammond hadn't even noticed.

He stepped out. Cones and flares had been set up by CHP, cordoning off three lanes and forcing eastbound traffic over to the right. Highway Patrol officers stood waving flashlights to direct the vehicular flow.

Brand's Crown Victoriathe plate had been traced to him by the first officers on the scenelay crosswise on the road, straddling a lane division. The front was all crunched in and busted up, and the dented guardrail some distance to the west showed why. The rear of the car had taken some scrapes as well. Both taillights and one headlight were out. The engine was dead. The occupant of the passenger seat was likewise.

Hammond approached the driver's side and looked in, not touching anything.

It was Brand, all right. His face was largely gone, but his build and the dark windbreaker he'd been wearing in Hollywood were still identifiable, although the windbreaker had changed color, having been dyed in a geyser of blood.

"It's him," he said as Lewinsky and Banner joined him. "Gunshot to the face. Where's the carjack vie?"

"First officer said a unit took him to Saint Vincent's," Banner reported. "He wasn't hurt, just shook up."

"Damn." Hammond shook his head. "I need to talk to him, confirm it was Gray. We got anybody at Brand's residence?"

"Hollywood unit is on the way," Lewinsky said.

"Maybe they'll find something that makes sense out of all this." Hammond took another look at the dead man in the passenger seat. "Somebody has to."