The Watchman

31

PIKE DROVE slowly when they left the warehouse. He rolled the windows down so the air would wash them, and took a long, meandering route through Chinatown, driving for more than an hour. They hadn’t eaten breakfast, but she wasn’t hungry. He stopped anyway and picked up Chinese for later. Pike hoped the drive and the air would help her leave the bodies, but the first thing she did when they got to the house was go to the table with his gun-cleaning things. She poured powder solvent onto the cotton cloth and pressed it to her nose like a huffer sniffing paint.

She said, “I can still smell them. They’re in my hair. They’re all over me.”

The Kings.

He took the cloth from her.

“Take a shower and brush your teeth. Put on fresh clothes. I’ll clean up after you.”

Pike phoned Bud while she was in the shower, but Bud didn’t answer. Pike considered leaving a message, but a message might be discovered by someone else, so he decided to call again later.

When the girl returned with new clothes and wet hair, Pike took care of himself. He scrubbed hard, massaging the soap in deep, then rinsed and washed again, running the hot water until none was left. When he finished, he wet his clothes, rubbed in the soap, then left them soaking in the tub. He would have washed the girl’s clothes, too, but they were fancy. He didn’t want to ruin them.

Pike dressed in his last set of clean clothes, then stepped out of the bathroom to find Cole and Larkin in the living room. Cole was holding a manila envelope.

“I missed you guys so much I had to come back.”

Larkin said, “He just walked in. He says he can still smell them, too.”

Pike knew something was wrong. The tension in Cole’s body was as obvious as a corpse hanging from the ceiling. Cole was pretending to be fine for the girl.

Pike said, “What’s up?”

“Got something here to show Larkin. Let’s take a look.”

Pike followed them to the table, where Cole opened the envelope. He put two grainy photographs that looked as if they had been run through a fax machine on the table. They were booking photos showing a dark-haired man with a round face, pocks on his nose, and small eyes. Cole stepped back so Larkin could get a good look, but Pike watched Cole.

“What do you think? Ever seen this guy?”

Conversational with a no-big-deal nonchalance. Would you like fries with that, ma’am?

“Uh-uh. Who is he?”

“Alexander Meesh.”

Larkin shook her head as if Cole had made an innocent mistake.

“No, this isn’t Meesh.”

“It’s Meesh. He was murdered in Colombia five years ago. These are his booking photos from the Denver Police Department.”

Pike put his hand on her shoulder. He felt the tension in her trapezius muscle. She didn’t want to believe it.

“Well, maybe he had plastic surgery. That’s possible, isn’t it? Don’t criminals do that?”

Cole shook his head.

“Larkin, I’m sorry. This is Meesh. The record Pitman gave you, it’s Meesh’s record, but the man you saw with the Kings wasn’t Meesh.”

“Then who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would they tell me he was this guy?”

Pike said, “Same reason they lied about everything else.”

Cole looked at Pike.

“Better talk to your friend Bud. See what else they’ve been lying about.”

Larkin suddenly stiffened under Pike’s hand.

“Ohmigod, we have to tell my father.”

Pike hesitated. Whatever Pitman was doing, they had an advantage so long as Pitman didn’t know they were onto him. Pike didn’t trust Conner Barkley and his lawyers not to give them away.

“We can’t tell your father. Not yet.”

Larkin went rigid and flushed.

“I can’t not tell him! These people have lied about everything, and now Meesh isn’t even Meesh! Who is he? Why are they lying?”

“Larkin-”

She grabbed his shirt.

“They’re lying to him, too, and he still believes them! He’s my father. If you won’t tell him, I’ll tell him myself!”

Pike studied her, seeing both fear and hope in her eyes. Conner Barkley was her father. She wanted to protect him. And maybe by protecting him, he might finally see her.

Pike took out his phone and punched in Bud’s number. This time Bud answered. Pike told Bud they needed to see him and the girl’s father as soon as possible. It was serious, Pike told him. Pike set the location, then ended the call before Bud could ask questions. When he lowered the phone, the girl squeezed his arm. She was calmer by then, though not particularly happy. Pike couldn’t blame her.

Cole said, “When we were at the warehouse-”

Pike waited.

“I’m glad you didn’t tell her things couldn’t get worse.”

Pike looked at the girl.

“Get your stuff. Let’s go.”