The sentry

15

Experienced investigators referred to the site where an abduction took place as ground zero. It was the intersection where the paths of the victim and perpetrator converged, and merged into one. It was an ambush zone of abrupt furious violence or quiet threat where two paths led in and only one path led out, but these paths weren't made in a vacuum. The physical world was disturbed-a fish rippled the water; a gliding bird cast a shadow. Pike knew this better than most because he spent most of his life trying to move without being heard or seen, or leaving a trail that others could follow. It was difficult. Jared Palmer had seen Reuben Mendoza. This was the first ripple, but Pike knew there would be others. The problem was time. Pike was building a pressure wave and riding it like a surfer shooting the green tunnel. But returning to Smith's house to develop the trail could take hours and would diminish the pressure. The wave would collapse. Pike needed help to maintain the pressure, and believed no one was better at finding and recovering missing persons than his partner, Elvis Cole.

Cole was a licensed private investigator Pike met back in the day when Pike still wore the badge. Not the likeliest of pairings, Pike being so quiet and remote, Cole being one of those people who thought he was funny, but they were more alike than most people knew. Cole was an apprentice then, working for an old-school L.A. dick named George Feider to pile up the three thousand hours of experience the state required for a license. When Cole clocked the three-thousandth hour, Feider was ready to retire and Cole wanted to buy his agency. Pike had resigned from LAPD by then, and was making fat cash on military and security contracts. They bought the agency together, though Pike stayed in the background. He preferred it that way. Unheard and unseen.

While Pike waited for Cole to arrive, he phoned Hydeck and Betsy Harmon, hoping he was wrong about their disappearance and that Wilson or Dru had returned their calls or finally showed up at their kitchen. They hadn't, and Betsy Harmon once more complained that no one had cleaned up the mess.

Twenty-five minutes after Pike called Elvis Cole, Cole slid into Pike's Jeep outside a bar on Abbot Kinney, a few short blocks from the canals. Cole had made good time. If he was in the middle of something when Pike called, he had not mentioned it.

Cole said, "What's going on?"

Pike began with Mendoza's arrest two days earlier, and sketched the sequence of events up to and including his search for Mendoza and his call to Miguel Azzara. When he finished, Cole studied the snapshot of Mendoza before looking up.

"So you don't believe they went to Oregon."

"No. If Mendoza hadn't been seen at the house, then maybe, but Mendoza changes the game."

"So you think, what, he followed them home to threaten them, but it turned into an abduction? He forced Smith to make the call?"

Pike nodded, but did not voice his darker fear-that the abduction had become a body drop.

"Have you tried calling them again?"

"You call, you get voice mail. They don't call back."

Cole nodded, his face vacant as he thought the scene through.

"Which is what would happen if their phones were taken away from them."

"Yes."

Cole glanced over.

"Forgetting Mendoza for a minute-maybe they were so freaked out, they figured enough with the bad news and turned off their phones."

"Wilson, maybe, but not Dru. Dru would call if she could."

"She would?"

Pike realized Cole was staring.

"I know her."

"Ah."

Pike thought he probably should have phrased it another way.

"We had a beer."

"I see."

"We made a date. She asked me to call."

"I understand."

Cole asked for their numbers, saying he would try to learn about their account activity from the service provider. Pike recited the numbers, then gave him Mendoza's shoe box and Hector's phone. Cole fingered through the contents.

"Okay, good-I can work with this. What about the police? Are they treating it as an abduction?"

"They don't know about Mendoza."

Cole glanced up from the box.

"Why not?"

"I want you to see the house first. You have fresh eyes, you're faster, and you'll see things they miss."

Cole tried to look modest.

"That goes without saying."

"But you won't have much time. We get you set up, I'm going to Button. He'll move on Smith's house, so we have to move on it first."

Cole glanced at Mendoza's picture again, then handed it back.

"Let's get busy."

Pike led the way with Cole following in his own car. Because of the narrow lanes and difficult parking, they left their vehicles on Venice Boulevard and approached Smith's house on foot. Pike didn't want another conversation with the Palmers, so he stopped well out of their view to point out Smith's house. Pike had already warned Cole about Jared.

When Cole saw the house, he glanced at Pike.

"A dude trying to make a go of a sandwich shop owns this place?"

"They're house-sitting. It's owned by a retired TV writer."

"Were you inside?"

"Only to check for bodies. I entered through the side window at the laundry room, but I didn't disturb the scene."

Pike described finding no signs of forced entry outside the house, and no blood evidence or signs of struggle in the carport or courtyard inside the front gate. He wanted Cole to concentrate on the interior because their time would be limited once he went to the police.

"When I finish with Button, I'll call you, then I'll sit on the girlfriend's house. I put her and Azzara in play to stress Mendoza. When Button comes in he'll jack the pressure even more, and Mendoza might break for home."

Stressing the enemy was a tactic Pike had used in the field. Put enough stress on the target, he would panic and run. They almost always broke for home.

Cole said, "Sounds good. I'll see what I can find out about Mendoza and Gomer, and relieve you later tonight."

They were finished, and Pike knew he should roll out, but he stared at the house. He imagined Dru and Wilson inside after they returned from their shop. He saw Mendoza and the second man moving toward the gate, then put what he saw next out of his head.

Pike realized Cole had said something, but hadn't heard what. Cole was watching him with a curious expression, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle.

"You okay?"

"I told her I took care of it. That they wouldn't be bothered again."

The sudden sympathy in Cole's eyes left Pike feeling embarrassed. He looked away.

Cole said, "Hey."

Pike looked back.

"Am I not the World's Greatest Detective?"

Pike nodded.

"I'm on it, Joseph. We'll find her."

Cole walked away before Pike could respond.

Pike watched his friend for a moment, then headed back to his Jeep. Time was passing, and time was the enemy.

Pike drove hard for the Pacific Community Police Station.