Last Breath

26

“Still busy,” Chang said, clicking off the cell phone.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tanner spun the steering wheel, guiding the cruiser north on La Brea Avenue. “We’ll call him later.”

After talking to C.J., Tanner had instructed Chang to dial the number on Detective Walsh’s card. Walsh’s line had been tied up for the past few minutes, while the squad car sped from the Harbor Freeway to the Santa Monica Freeway, and now along the surface streets of the mid-Wilshire district.

“How far is it now?” Chang asked.

“Another six blocks. We’re almost there.”

“I thought she told you she wouldn’t be home.”

“Maybe I can catch her on her way out.”

“But why? What’s the emergency?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… She sounded funny.”

Chang frowned. “What do you mean, funny?”

“Not herself. Just… off. You know?”

“Could be your imagination, man.”

“I don’t have that much imagination.”

Chang considered this, then nodded soberly. “That’s true.”

“I’m just worried, is all.”

“Because she sounded funny.”

“It’s a feeling I’ve got.”

“A feeling that originates in the general vicinity of your crotch. You’re hung up on this girl. Rick. You’re reading too much into every little thing.”

“Maybe. But Hyannis isn’t hung up on her, and he was worried too. Anyway, we’re almost there. In fact”-another spin of the wheel-“here’s her street. Look for number eight-twenty-four.”

Tanner slowed the squad car as Chang studied the rows of Craftsman-style bungalows drifting past on the right.

“That one.” He pointed.

Tanner pulled into the driveway in front of the detached garage. He and his partner got out.

“See if her car’s there,” Tanner said in a low voice.

Chang approached the garage and shone his flashlight through a side window, then returned to Tanner’s side. “White Dodge Neon.”

“That’s her vehicle.” Tanner had seen it in Newton Station’s parking lot. “She must still be home. Come on.”

He and Chang circled around to the front door. Tanner rang the bell, then rapped hard. “C.J.? You in there? It’s Rick Tanner.”

No answer.

“C.J.? Hey, C.J.?”

Still nothing. Tanner and Chang exchanged a glance.

“It’s the police,” Tanner added for the benefit of anyone else who might be inside. He tested the door. Locked.

“Now what, boss?” Chang inquired. He called Tanner boss only when he was feeling a little stressed.

“We go in,” Tanner said calmly, unholstering his 9mm.

“We’ve got no jurisdiction here.”

“Screw jurisdiction.”

“We’ve got no grounds to enter.”

“We have exigent circumstances.”

“Like hell we do. She told you she was going out.”

“Her car’s still here.”

“Maybe somebody picked her up.”

“Or maybe she’s in trouble. You didn’t see Hyannis’s face when I mentioned the Four-H Club.”

“We can’t go busting in there. It could cost us big-time.”

Tanner hesitated. He needed Chang with him if he was going to search the house. On SWAT call-ups Tanner was the team leader and Chang was the scout.

“How about a compromise?” Tanner said. “We check out the doors and windows, look for signs of intrusion.”

Chang drew his service pistol. “What the hell. I never figured on making pension anyway.”

Together they moved around the house, labeling the different sides SWAT-style-side one for the front, side two for the wall facing the garage.

On side three, the rear of the bungalow, they found the back door standing open.

“Still no exigent circumstances?” Tanner asked.

Chang merely frowned.

They kept their distance from the open door. There was only dim light beyond.

“Stealth entry,” Tanner whispered. “I’m gonna slice the pie. If it’s clear, we roll out.”

He moved past the doorway in a wide arc, focusing on each section of the interior hallway as it came into view. By the time he had passed from the right side of the doorway to the left, he had scanned as much of the interior as it was possible to see.

There was no suspect in sight, but the hall was dark, illuminated only by the glow from the front of the house and by faint ambient light from outside.

Tanner hugged the left door frame while Chang took up position on the right. Chang looked for the “clear” sign. Tanner gave him a thumbs-up.

On a silent count of three, they entered the hall, Tanner first, Chang directly behind him. Tanner crossed instantly to the opposite side of the corridor, the last safely cleared position, and put his back against the wall. Chang joined him shoulder to shoulder a moment later.

Hallways were dangerous. Slots, they were called in tactical training maneuvers. An officer didn’t want to get caught in a slot, without cover or concealment.

Three doors lined the hall. Three rooms, any of which could be unfriendly.

Tanner pointed to the nearest room, the door ajar. Then he sliced the pie again, his quick footsteps tracing an arc before the doorway as he scanned the interior.

Bedroom. Mirror on the far wall. No movement reflected in the glass.

When Tanner had positioned himself to the right of the door, Chang moved to the left side.

They had gone into a hundred empty rooms and had survived every time.

Tanner hoped their luck would hold on the hundred and first.