“Likewise,” she said, and told him the name of the third man, the guy she thought of as Jack, was Paul Colter. “These guys weren’t what I was expecting.”
“You thought they were going to be gang members, probably Hispanic, didn’t you?”
“Most of the time they are.”
“Walking into a case with preconceived notions is the biggest mistake you can make. You have to approach each investigation as if it’s the first one you’ve ever done, which should be especially easy for you.”
“Because I have so little experience.”
“There’s always a silver lining.”
“Hard to see it in this situation.”
“It’s right there.” Duncan gestured to the backyard. “They’re dead, we’re alive.”
“Speaking of which,” she said, “Officer-Involved is waiting for us at the station.”
“I don’t see the point. They can just make some popcorn and watch the movies. I’d like to see what happened upstairs myself.”
She started walking back to the door. “It’s not very exciting.”
“I want to see the expression on your face when the guy bolted.” Duncan stumbled and Eve caught him by the forearm.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been sitting a long time and my blood sugar is low.”
They started walking, but she kept her hand on his arm to steady him and he didn’t shrug it off.
“You ate two hours ago,” she said.
“Exactly, I’m starving. Let’s swing through McDonald’s on our way back.” He stopped when he saw the Explorer, a look of disappointment on his face. “Where’s the Rolls?”
“Trashed.”
“How many cars have you destroyed in the last four months?”
The tally depended on whether she counted her Subaru Outback, which deputies had spray-painted with the words TRAITOR BITCH and stuffed with bags of dog shit a few weeks ago, though she couldn’t prove that they were the culprits.
“I haven’t kept track,” she said.
“That says it all.”
They got into the Explorer and Eve drove them away. As she passed a patrol car parked at the gate, she asked Duncan a question that had been nagging at her for the last hour or so.
“When did backup finally arrive?”
“Too late to be considered backup.”
“I’m sorry,” Eve said, turning left and heading north on Parkway Calabasas toward Calabasas Road and the freeway.
“It’s not your fault the deputy assigned to surveillance fucked us.”
“Yes, it is. I’m the one who is loathed by most of the department. It’s me they want to hurt. You’re collateral damage.”
“I’m your partner. I was an active participant in everything they hate you for.”
“You didn’t get promoted to homicide, leaping over detectives with years of experience, because you were the star of a viral YouTube video.”
“Good point,” he said. “Apology accepted.”
CHAPTER FIVE
They stopped at the McDonald’s on Las Virgenes Road, also known as Malibu Canyon, a half mile from Lost Hills’ sheriff’s station. Eve walked into the restaurant with Duncan, smelled the aroma of french fries, and realized that she was ravenous, too. Duncan ordered them each a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese combo meal, Eve paid for it since his “show-cash” was now evidence, and they settled into a booth.
“I figure the department owes us lunch,” he said. “And the upgrade to Double Quarter Pounders.”
Eve couldn’t disagree with that.
They were both drawing curious glances from the other McDonald’s patrons because they were considerably overdressed for the place, which was filled with people in beachwear who were either on their way to or from Malibu.
“I think we’re violating the dress code,” she said.
Duncan took a look around. “If you take off that jacket, you’ll fit right in.”
Between bites of his burger, Duncan called the judge to get telephonic search warrants on the homes, vehicles, and phones of the three dead assailants, but in doing so, he dribbled some ketchup on his Louis Vuitton camouflage shirt to go with the blood.
The judge granted their warrants, which Eve knew was a no-brainer given the situation. Eve’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She looked at the caller ID: SHARK. It was Linwood Taggert, her Hollywood agent. She ignored it.