It took an hour to get to Dog House, start a new account, and put Pinto up for the night. Ballard’s heart hurt as she realized the dog might think he was being rejected and turned back in to a shelter. She hugged him and promised to come back the next day, assuring herself more than the dog.
Her parking place in front of Mozza had gone unclaimed and she pulled back in shortly before four, adjusting her mirrors so she could pick up any vehicles coming out of North Citrus Avenue behind her. She then made the initial call to Hannah Stovall and the strategy she had formulated kicked into gear.
Her call was picked up right away.
“Hello, I’m looking for Hannah Stovall.”
“That’s me. Who’s this?”
“I’m calling about the report of a streetlight that is out on your street?”
“Oh, yes. Right in front of my house.”
“And how long would you estimate that it has been out?”
“Just since yesterday. I know it was working Saturday because it shines over the top of my shades in my bedroom. It’s like a night-light for me. I noticed it was gone last night and I emailed Martha Welborne this morning. This seems to be a lot of attention for one little streetlight. What’s going on?”
“My name is Renée Ballard. I’m a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. I don’t want to scare you, Ms. Stovall, but I believe someone may be planning to break into your home.”
Ballard knew no gentler way to put it, but as she expected, Stovall reacted with extreme alarm.
“Oh my god — who?”
“I don’t know that but — ”
“Then how do you know? You just call people up and scare the shit out of them? This doesn’t make sense. How do I know you’re even a cop? A detective or whatever you say you are.”
Ballard had anticipated having to prove who she was to this woman.
“Is this number a cell phone?” she asked.
“Yes,” Stovall said. “Why do you want to know that?”
“Because I’m going to hang up and text you photos of my police ID and my badge. Then I’ll call you back and explain what’s going on in fuller detail. Okay, Ms. Stovall?”
“Yes, send the text. Whatever this is, I want it to be over.”
“So do I, Ms. Stovall. I’m disconnecting now and will call you back.”
Ballard ended the call, pulled up photos of her badge and police ID, and texted them to Stovall. She waited a few minutes for them to land and be viewed, then called back.
“Hello.”
“Hannah — can I call you Hannah?”
“Sure, fine, just tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay, but I’m not going to sugarcoat this, because I need your help. There are two men out there targeting women in the Hollywood area. They invade their homes in the middle of the night and assault them. We believe they knock out the streetlights near the victim’s home a night or two before the attack.”
There was a long silence only punctuated by the repeated intake of breath.
“Hannah, are you all right?”
Nothing.
“Hannah?”
Finally she came back with words.
“Are they the Midnight Men?”
“Yes, Hannah.”
“Then why aren’t you here right now? Why am I alone?”
“Because they might be watching you. If we make a show, we lose the chance to capture them and end this.”
“You’re using me as bait? Oh my fucking god!”
“No, Hannah. You’re not bait. We have a plan to keep you safe. Again, that’s why I’m calling you instead of showing up. There’s a plan. I want to tell it to you but I need you to be calm. There is no reason to panic. They don’t come during the day. They — ”
“You said they could be watching.”
“But they are not going to break in during daylight hours. It’s too dangerous for them, and the fact that your light is out proves they’re coming at night. Do you understand?”
No answer.
“Hannah, do you understand?”
“Yes. What do you want me to do?”
“Good, Hannah. Stay calm. In an hour this will be over for you and you’ll be safe.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise. Now, this is what I want you to do. You keep your car in your garage, right?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of car is it? What color?”
“It’s an Audi A-six. Silver.”
“Okay, and where do you do your grocery shopping?”