Chasing Darkness

The children’s bedrooms were on the second floor-everything perfect and neat, but somehow even more frightening than the rest of the house. Posters of fading celebrities and forgotten bands decorated their walls. Computers several generations behind the current models sat on their desks. The toothbrushes in their bathroom hadn’t been used in years.

I almost fell as I ran down the stairs, racing back to the master bedroom. The master bath told the same story. The men’s products had been recently used, but the women’s products were dry and out-of-date, and no soiled female garments were waiting to be cleaned.

My heart punched hard in my chest as the silence roared like the ocean. It roared even louder as I ran. I ran back through the house and out the French doors and all the way back to my car. It roared until I realized my cell phone was vibrating again. Bastilla was trying again. This time I answered.

41

JONNA HILL sat in a pleasant beige room in the Mission Area Police Station at the top of the San Fernando Valley. She was as far from the eyes and ears downtown as Marx could hide her. It was a comfortable room with patterned wallpaper, where rape and abuse victims were interviewed. The feminine surroundings supposedly made it easier for victims to talk. We were watching her through a two-way mirror. She was alone now, toying with the cap from a water bottle. Jo

Munson rubbed his eyes, then leaned against the wall, frowning at me.

“Are you sure it was Levy?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe it only sounded like Levy.”

I said, “It was Levy, Munson. I know Levy’s voice.”

Our side of the glass didn’t have patterned wallpaper or comforting decor. The observation room was battleship-grey with a work desk butting the glass, metal chairs, and recording equipment. Pike and I stayed with Munson when Bastilla left to pick up the original death album pictures. Marx was in and out, phoning his contacts at Barshop, Barshop. They were doing everything themselves in order to stay under the radar.

Marx returned a few minutes later, holding his cell phone as if it were hot. He glanced at Munson as he entered.

“She open up?”

“She’s tough, man. Nothing.”

Pike said, “She believes him.”

Munson rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please, Pike. She’s crazy.”

I said, “She might be crazy, but she believes Levy helped her punish the man who murdered her sister. She thinks they’re on the same side.”

Yvo

She was always bad, and her bad ways caught up. Wasn’t no better than a cat in heat from when she was little. I wouldn’t even keep her picture up there if it wasn’t for Jo

Munson didn’t buy it.

“Well, it would be nice if she said something for the record. I still don’t believe it. Wilts is our guy.”

Marx jiggled the cell phone as if he was nervous, then crossed his arms.

“Maybe not. On or about the time Frostokovich was murdered, a partner at Barshop was raising money for Wilts’s campaign. That’s one. The hooker party Wilts threw a few years later was also attended by a couple of Barshop partners. The man I spoke with believes Levy attended. That’s two. So it looks like Levy had access to these women through his firm.”

I said, “Was Levy at the di

“Someone is looking into it. He’s going to call back.”

Munson threw up his hands. The room was so small he almost hit Pike.

“So what the hell? Were we wrong about Wilts or is he still a suspect?”

“We’ll know when she talks.”

“Jesus. Could Levy be acting as an agent for Wilts?”

I shook my head.

“You don’t share something like this. You do it yourself. If the pictures came from Levy, then Levy took the pictures.”

Marx looked at Jo

“What’s the last contact you had with him?”

“We spoke earlier this afternoon. He was pushing me to find her.”

“Okay. Before that?”

“Yesterday. He came to my house. He was feeling me out about what you guys were doing and asking about the girl.”

Munson grunted.

“Using you.”

“Yeah, Munson, how about that?”

“I wasn’t criticizing.”

I turned back to Marx.

“My guess, he’s looking to kill her. She hasn’t been returning his calls, so she’s probably thinking the same thing. That’s probably why she went back to Sylmar.”

Munson sighed.

“We should bag this guy, Tommy. Let’s get him off the street.”

“How? He could be halfway to China by now.”

Pike shifted in the corner.

“No. He wants her. She’s the loose end.”

Marx didn’t look convinced.

“If we make a play for him before she talks, all we’ll do is warn him. We don’t have anything. Even if this girl tells us everything she knows, unless she has something hard, it’s her word against his. You know what Alan Levy would do with that.”

Munson crossed his arms, looking sullen.

“He’ll say she’s harassing him because he defended the man who murdered her sister.”

“That’s it.”

“That could be what we’re looking at, anyway. We have her for forty-eight hours, then we arraign her or cut her loose. Either way, that’s when Levy gets the word. We pick him up now, at least we catch him off guard.”

“Pick him up where? He’s not at the office. Cole says he isn’t home. You think he’s going to come in, we call him and ask?”

“Have Barshop, Barshop call him. Maybe someone at the firm.”

Pike said, “He’ll read it. He’ll walk away from the phone, and you’ll never see him again.”

I was watching Jo

I said, “Levy thinks I’m looking for her. He wants me to find her and he’s hoping I’ll call. Let me call him.”

“Where does that get us?”

“I can tell him I found her. I tell him where she is, he’s going to show up.”

“So we bag him. We still don’t have a case.”

“If she cooperated, we might be able to get him to incriminate himself. We get him on tape, you’ll have the case.”

Munson laughed, and swung his hands again. Pike stepped to the side.

“Wake up, Cole. Look at her. That girl is cold.”

“Right now, she believes Byrd killed her sister. If we convince her it was Levy, she might change her mind.”

Marx considered me for a moment, then looked at Jo

Marx turned back to me.

“Let’s figure this out.”