The Devil's bounty

Nine

The desk Sergeant at the Santa Barbara Police Department was pleasant enough, while simultaneously managing to be entirely unhelpful. Santa Barbara was that kind of town and Lock understood his reticence. As far as the Santa Barbara PD was concerned, they had apprehended Charlie Mendez and gathered sufficient evidence to get a conviction. The fact that a judge had screwed up hadn’t been down to them. Lock sympathized, but he wasn’t about to go away.

After he waited for two hours, a young patrol officer, Ken Fossum, came to talk to him. He was on his way out to begin a fresh shift. ‘And if I could ask what your connection to the case is?’ was his opener.

‘Yesterday evening someone tried to kill Melissa Warner. I believe they were connected to Charlie Mendez.’

The patrol officer looked ruffled. ‘Here in Santa Barbara?’

‘LA.’

‘Well, I’m not sure why you’re talking to us, Mr Lock. That’s a matter for the LAPD.’

Lock choked back a sarcastic reply. ‘I realize that, Officer. But I was hoping to speak to the lead detective on the original case.’

Fossum assumed a pained expression. ‘She’s retired. Went a few months back.’

‘You know where I could find her?’

‘I do, but I can’t tell you. I’m sure a man in your line of work is aware of how that goes.’

Lock did. ‘In that case could someone pass a message along that I’d like to speak with her?’

‘I can do that. Doesn’t mean she’ll want to talk to you, though.’

Lock went back to his car, got in and called Ty. The news from the hospital was the same: Melissa was critical but stable. He finished the call, and looked at the empty passenger seat. Raped and then shot for her trouble. Just when you think the world can’t get any more messed up something comes along to surprise you.

He started the engine and pulled out into the traffic. He had an address for the beach house where the attack had taken place. He didn’t think it would yield anything, but he wanted to go there and see the place for himself. If nothing else it might give him a sense of who Charlie Mendez really was. If Lock was going after him, he would need that. Mendez would become Lock’s prey, and the better you knew your prey, the easier it was to catch.

The drive took about fifteen minutes. It was a pleasant afternoon. He guessed that most afternoons in Santa Barbara were. It was the kind of place where a young college student would find it easy to lower her guard.

He turned into the road where the house was and scanned the numbers until he found it. It had been sold during the run-up to the trial. No doubt the proceeds had gone towards the two million dollars cash that Mendez had had to raise as bail to secure his freedom.

Lock got out of the car and stared up at the outside of the house. He thought about ringing the bell but decided against it. Instead he walked down the road until he found a flight of steps that led to the beach. At the bottom, he took off his shoes and socks and walked along the sand.

The glass-fronted house was very similar to the one he’d shared with Carrie. In fact the resemblance was eerie. He scanned the decks but no one was sitting on them and all the doors and windows were shut. There had been no cars parked outside either. The new owner must be using it as a weekend getaway or vacation home.

Steps led up to a small wooden gate and the house. He climbed them, hopped over the gate and walked up to a side window. Inside, the house seemed cold and antiseptic. It told him everything and nothing about Mendez.

His cell phone rang. He clicked the answer button.

‘Mr Lock?’ said a woman’s voice.

‘Yes.’

‘I got a message that you wanted to speak to me.’