Eleventh Hour

At ten o’clock in the morning, Delion, Savich, Sherlock, and Dane were seated around Detective Flynn’s desk in the detectives’ room on the second floor of the West Los Angeles Police Department. Linda, today’s volunteer receptionist, had given them all homemade cookies when they’d come in. “I’ve always admired the FBI,” she’d said, patting Savich’s bicep. “And you’re so nice, too.”

Sherlock had said, “What about me, Linda?”

“I think of you as their mascot, cute as a button with that red hair flying all over the place. As for you,” she said to Dane, “you look a bit on the edge. The cookie will help get things in perspective, sugar always does.”

“Thank you, Linda,” Dane said. “That’s what we’ve been hearing about, sugar.”

The detectives’ room was, as usual, a madhouse, which didn’t appear to bother anyone. Savich settled down in a side chair next to Detective Flynn’s desk, MAX on his lap. He looked up after ten minutes and said, “No indication that she’s used the AmEx yet, either that, or folks are just too lazy to check. Since the card’s in your name, Dane, and not hers, I can’t imagine anyone not checking. We just wait, nothing else to do.”

Sherlock said, “You know the deal you made with her not to delve into her past? Well, we’ve got to find her and protect her, we’ve got to find out who she is. The time has come. Dillon, can you have MAX find out who she is?”

“Yes,” Savich said. “We know her name’s Nicola, she’s twenty-eight, she’s got a Ph.D., and she’s a college professor. This won’t be anything for MAX. Everyone on board with this?”

Delion said, “Do it. Now isn’t the time for irrelevant promises.”

“Yeah,” Dane said. “That’s what I figured.”

While Savich worked, Detective Flynn was sitting back in his chair, his hands laced over his belly, a basketball on the floor beside him. He said, “I just don’t understand why she took off like this. She’s pulling us away from the really important stuff—you know, multiple murders, silly things like that. I’d like to get in her face when we catch up with her.”

Sherlock said, “Do you think she headed back up to San Francisco? To hide herself in the homeless population again?”

Dane shook his head. “No. And I don’t think she’s gone back home either, wherever home is.”

“Then where did she go?” Flynn asked, sipped at the god-awful coffee. His phone rang. He picked it up, barked, “Yeah? Detective Flynn here.”

He wrote something on a pad. When he set the receiver back into its cradle, he was grinning. “How’s this for a bit of luck? Our girl hitched a ride with a trucker. He said he always listens to the police reports on his CB. Said when he heard the APB, he knew he’d given our girl a ride.”

“Where?” Sherlock said.

“Up in Ventura County.”

“Hot damn,” Dane said. “She’s gone to see Captain DeLoach.”

“But why did she just run away like that?” Flynn asked.

“I’ll be sure to ask her after I handcuff her,” Dane said.

“I’ll provide the handcuffs,” Delion said.

“I’m still gonna burn her ass,” Flynn said.

MAX chose that moment to beep. Savich looked down, smiled. “MAX just told me who she is.”

Savich closed down MAX, rose, and stretched. “We can be at Bear Lake by midafternoon.”

THIRTY

One moment there was only the sound of Captain DeLoach’s soft snoring. The next there was a man’s voice, speaking quietly, right there, right next to Captain DeLoach’s wheelchair.

“Wake up, old man. Come on now, you can do it. It’s Weldon, and I’m here to make sure that it’s over, at least for you. Wake up, you old monster, wake up. I’m going to mete out the only justice you’ll ever get in this world, and I want you awake for this.”

Captain DeLoach jerked awake, snorted, looked up, and whispered, “Weldon, how did you get in here? There’s cops out there protecting me, lots of them. And the Feds, they’re everywhere looking for you. You’d better run while you’ve got the chance. How did you come in through the sliding doors? I always keep them locked.”

“You old fool, I have a key to the sliding doors. Not a soul saw me, for sure not that one cop chatting up Velvet in the reception area. And the other one who’s supposed to be protecting you—I saw him out in the parking lot smoking a cigarette. There’s just the two of them, old man.