I thought about it.
“Can I call back in a few?”
“Yeah.”
I plugged the SIM back into my regular phone and called Jon Stone. He answered in his usual charming way.
“Sorry, I’m out of handouts.”
“If you’re able to locate the meatball’s car, I need to know where it is.”
“How much will you pay?”
“Could you be a bigger prick?”
“I work for money. You should try it.”
“Two home plate tickets in the Dodgers Dugout Club for the Astros.”
“Done. Get ready to copy and stand by.”
Ninety seconds later he recited a set of GPS coordinates in the City of Industry.
I said, “Can’t you just give me an address?”
“I could, but it’s you.”
Stone hung up. A prick to the end.
I called Lou.
“Write this down.”
He stopped me when I started reading off numbers.
“What the hell?”
“Copy and read it back.”
I gave him the numbers twice.
He said, “What is this?”
“The sedan.”
Lou didn’t respond.
I said, “Don’t ask. I have more.”
I told him about Kimberly Laird and sent the photos of her notes.
“Kimberly acted as Rachel’s safety when Rachel worked as an escort. She kept meticulous notes of Rachel’s dates for years.”
“What am I looking at?”
“Her notes. Rachel’s johns, when and where they met, everything. Most of this isn’t connected to Locke and Richter, but Locke’s name shows up again and again. Locke used her as a reward or an inducement. Richter shows up, too.”
“I’m not seeing it.”
“I only sent four pages. Kimberly has six years of pages.”
Lou was silent for a moment.
“Is she willing to cooperate?”
“Yes.”
I gave him Kimberly’s address and number and told him the reason I’d sent the pages. I explained Tarly’s misgivings and guilt, his growing resentment toward his brother-in-law, and his fear of their illegal schemes. Lou didn’t speak until I finished.
He said, “This guy will flip.”
“I think he will.”
“This girl, Kimberly, will she come in?”
“Go to her. Call first. I told her you’d call. She’s expecting your call now.”
“I’ll call. Hey—”
“You’re welcome.”
I let Kimmie know I’d spoken with Poitras. She sounded as if she was having second thoughts, so I told her a funny story about Poitras and me and we talked for a while. She was fine.
I successfully delayed going home for twenty-two minutes. I had stalled long enough. I started the car and drove toward my future.
53
My little house was dark when it came into view. Lucy’s car was out front. I parked and touched its hood. Cold. Detectives detect. They’d been home for a while.
The kitchen door was open when I came around the corner in the carport. Lucy stood framed in the doorway. I stopped and she stood and neither of us spoke. The Corvette’s hot engine creaked and popped. We looked at each other until she went back into the kitchen and I followed and closed the door.
Ben was on the couch in the living room reading something on his phone. He looked up.
“Hey. Where you been?”
I said, “Working. How about you?”
“San Diego. Traffic sucked.”
I glanced at Lucy. She was leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. She looked pensive.
“There’s leftover jambalaya if you’d like. I didn’t know, so I didn’t heat it.”
I said, “San Diego.”
“It was nice to drive.”
Ben called from the couch.
“Kill me first next time. Mom called a guy a shithead and flipped people off.”
Lucy’s nostrils flared.
“We should step outside.”
I followed her out and closed the slider. The air held a fresh coolness but wasn’t chill. It was nice. Lucy went to the rail and gazed at the canyon. I started to make a crack about drones but didn’t. I stood next to her and gazed out at the canyon like her, but we probably didn’t see the same thing.
“Sorry I left in the middle of the night, with just the note. It wasn’t a comment on us. It couldn’t be helped.”
She faced me and seemed to study me. She looked from my left eye to my right eye. She looked at my hair and my mouth and my face as if she were mapping me. Her eyes went to my chest and back up to me.