Last shot

Chapter 78

Edwin answered the door, regarded the FBI team soberly, nodded, and withdrew. Behind the cluster of agents, Tim and Bear waited by the koi pond. It had become the Bureau's case, but Tim had some pull with Jeff Malane, the special agent in charge, who requested Tim and Bear's presence for the arrest. A few years back with Tim and the Escape Team, Malane had busted up an incipient terrorist group trying to gain a foothold in Los Angeles, and he'd ridden the acclaim up the promotional ladder. Now he wore nicer shoes and a more pronounced scowl.

The 5:00 A.M. sky was a sheet of blued steel. After a few minutes, Bear made an impatient noise, but Malane held up his hand. They'd let Dean get dressed.

The other agents milled around the porch. A lot of rumpled button-ups and bad ties. Melissa Yueh was there, too, with a sized-down team. Tim had tipped her as repayment for her help earlier. She was made up and vibrant, her face flushed with an excitement that bordered on sexual.

The immense door opened with a groan of wood. Dean tugged a cuff free of his jacket sleeve. "The hell is this?" His glare pulled to the team of agents, the rolling TV camera.

Malane said, "I'm placing you under arrest for mail and wire fraud, health-care fraud, securities fraud, failure of corporate officers to certify financial reports, destruction of audit records, and criminal conspiracy to commit involuntary manslaughter. Those are just the Title Fifteens and Eighteens. I have an SEC investigator waiting to pile on charges. The asset-freeze order went through an hour ago-you'll have a hearing on it in ten days. In the meantime you can relax in the Metropolitan Detention Center."

Melissa Yueh slid into the scene as if on wheels, now front and center with her crew, offering the play-by-play. Instinctively, Dean raised a hand to hide his face, but Malane grasped his wrist and bent it down to the handcuff.

Dean was too wise and experienced to comment.

Gripping the handcuff chain, Malane steered him down the walk past the cameras, past the agents, past the deputies. Dean slowed when he caught sight of Tim and Bear.

Dean hunched against his cuffs, and Malane rested a hand on his coiffed hair, dipping him into the dark sedan. Malane nodded at Tim, who walked over and leaned in. The interior smelled of new leather and old cigarette smoke.

Tim spoke quietly. "You're right. We couldn't link you to Tess's murder. But she's responsible for your takedown. Remember that. See her face when you close your eyes."

Dean cast a vaguely bored gaze forward. "Whatever document you may possess means nothing on its own. You've got no evidence. I'll shake you boys off like fleas."

Tim lifted his stare to the tinted opposite window. Dean's brows drew together, and then he turned. Across the wide Bel Air street, Dolan leaned against Tannino's Bronco, his arms crossed. On one side of him the marshal, Guerrera on the other.

Dean's shoulders curled in an inadvertent cringe. His chin quivered ever so slightly.

Tim slammed the door and banged the roof, and he and Bear watched the sedan drift up the street, beginning the long drive downtown. It turned the corner.

When Tim looked back, Tannino's Bronco was gone, Dolan along with it.

"Well," Bear said, "that's that. What's for breakfast?"