In Dark Places

She was fairly sure the call would go throughbut who would she reach? She couldn't remember the last number she'd dialed.

"Got something on your mind, Doc?" Gray was staring at her.

"I just want to know what amp; what you intend to do with us."

"Like it's a big mystery? Go

Maybe hitting redial had been a bad idea. She still couldn't remember the last number she'd dialed. Was it Mrs.

Grandy? Or was it her own number at the condo, when she spoke to the SID technician?

No, that wasn't it. She'd used the phone once morein the arcade. When she called Brand.

Perfect, just perfect. She'd placed a call to a dead man.

She had to try a different number. Hit O for the operator, maybe. She touched the clasp of her purse again.

"What're you reaching for, Doc?"

Gray had seen her this time.

"Nothing," she said.

"Gimme the handbag. Right now." He reached for the purse, and without pausing to think or to calculate the risks, she whipped it by the strap, smacking him hard in the face. He stumbled, and for a moment she was sure he would topple down the cellar stairs, but somehow he kept his footing and tore the purse out of her grasp. He pitched it away into the darkness beyond the flashlight's glow.

He was breathing hard. "Jesus, you're a pain in the ass."

The gun targeted her chest. She knew he was debating whether or not to fire.

"I'm sorry, Justin."

"No, you ain't. You're not sorry for nothing you did to me."

"I was always trying to help you. I wanted to make you better."

His face twisted. "I don't want to be better. When did you ever hear me complain about what I am? I been straight with you, Doc. I told you I like the silence 'n' violence. I like putting this old world into a world of hurt. You hear me? I made myself what I am. My parents didn't make me. Society didn't make me. I made me. I made Justin Hanover Gray. That's who the fuck I am. You never listened 'cause you didn't want to. You got your own motherfuckin' agenda. Wa

"I never understood," she whispered, speaking only to herself.

There was no hope of reaching him. There never had been.

Chapter Fifty-eight

Hammond and Ba

"Okay," Lewinsky said, "it just came over the MDT." The Mobile Data Terminal was installed under the dashboard of every LAPD car. "A Hollywood unit is code six at Brand's house. They found Wolper there, by the way."

"Detective Wolper? In the house?"

"On the property. I don't know what's up with that. But another Hollywood car cruising the area found what could be the stolen Firebird."

"Could be?"

"License plate doesn't match. They ran the plate to a residence in Inglewood. Inglewood PD is on their way to talk to the owner."

Someone's cell phone started to ring. They ignored it.

"Gray could've switched plates," Ba

"I know that, Phil," Hammond snapped. "We all know it."

Ba

"You think?" Hammond asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I'm just pointing out"

"The fucking obvious. Good work, Columbo. What would we do without you?"

"Maybe I should stick to media relations."

"Maybe you should."

"You want me to get Susy Chen on the phone to cover this?"

"Shut up."

"It's a terrific story, Chief. Not only does the LAPD fail to find Gray, they actually let him kidnap and kill one of their own. I'll bet the public is feeling real safe now."

"You heard the chief," Lewinsky said. "Shut up."

Ba

"You don't have to be such a goddamn prick. We need to work together and figure a way out of this shit."

"We wouldn't be in this shit in the first place if"

"Don't say it," Hammond barked, "or you're back on traffic duty. And whose fucking phone is that, anyway?"

They looked at each other, then at the car.

"Shit," Hammond said.

He went around to the passenger side and fished the ringing cell phone out of Brand's windbreaker. He took a breath and pressed the OK button to accept the call.

"Yeah?" he said, wondering if he should try to sound like Brand or what.

No one was there. But there was no dial tone, either. He listened closely, the phone against his ear, his free hand blocking out the traffic noise.

Faintly he heard a man's voice, raised in an angry rant.

" amp; a whole new wrinkle for me. You know, I never did the nasty with them girls I snatched. Was always too looped to get it up. Ain't looped now."

He knew that voice. He'd heard it on news clips of Justin Gray's trial, which had been playing on the local news all night.

Lewinsky and Ba

Hammond cupped the phone with his hand. "Gray."

Ba

"Yeah, that's right, Phil. April fool." Hammond checked the phone's LCD readout. "Brand's got caller ID. We can find out who placed this call."

Lewinsky had his pad out. "Give me the number. I'll do it."

Hammond listened again as Lewinsky moved away to use his cell phone, but now the only sounds on the line were distant, indecipherable noises. He heard a new voice raised in a shout. A female voice.

"Someone's with him," Hammond said. "A woman."

Ba

Hammond turned to him. "You just don't fucking get it, do you? This is our break. We trace the call and we know where he is. Right now, in real time."

"Brand's still dead," Ba

"Brand died in the performance of his duties. He's a goddamn hero. He led us directly to the whereabouts of the city's most wanted man and saved untold lives. Jesus, Phil, get with the program."

Lewinsky finished his call. "The call is being made from a cell phoneand it's assigned to Robin Cameron."

Hammond stared at him. "The shrink? Jesus."

"Maybe she's the one he's got with him," Ba

"Thanks, Phil, that never would've occurred to me." Hammond looked at Lewinsky. "Can we trace the call?"

"To the nearest transmission tower."

"We need a warrant?"

"Not if her service provider will cooperate. I've got RHD working it now. They'll call me when they get anything."

Hammond motioned to Ba

Ba

"Not real cops? We're real cops tonight."

Ba

"RHD came through," he said to Hammond. "The call's being routed through a cell tower at South Central Avenue and Fourteenth Street. That's only a few blocks north of the freeway."

"The old commercial district," Hammond said. "Factories and warehouses."

"Right. Five minutes from here. We good to go?"

Hammond hesitated only a moment. "Let's do it. Let's nail this son of a bitch."