The First Rule - Robert Crais Page 0,48
it back.
“I’m good.”
Deets in his corner, chin down, looked up from under his brow.
“Did you kill those people?”
“No.”
“You know who did?”
“Not yet.”
Terrio pushed closer to the table.
“What were you doing down there?”
Down there. As if Willowbrook was another world.
“I was looking for a two-time felon named Earvin Williams. Williams might have participated in or had knowledge of Frank’s murder.”
“Why did you think Williams was involved?”
“Williams was a D-Block Crip. He put together a crew of his homies, some of whom have shown a sudden increase in personal wealth.”
Terrio arched his eyebrows.
“You know other D-Blocks who were involved?”
“Jamal Johnson.”
Terrio turned white, and Deets snapped a glance as fast as a nail gun.
“How do you know about Jamal Johnson?”
“His cousin, Rahmi.”
“No way. SIS is on Rahmi Johnson. They’re on him right now. You couldn’t have spoken with him.”
Pike shrugged, believe what you want.
“Williams and Johnson were both D-Block. I don’t know about the other guy. Was Johnson one of the vics?”
Deets said, “Screw that, Pike. We ask, you answer. This isn’t a conversation.”
Terrio held up a hand, cutting him off.
“Johnson was confirmed as one of the vics.”
“Who was the third male?”
“Samuel ‘Lil Tai’ Renfro. He goes back to the D-Block with Williams and Johnson. How was it you came to believe this is the crew who hit Meyer’s home?”
Terrio was staring at Pike so intently that he looked as if he might tip out of the chair. That’s when Pike realized that Jamal Johnson had still been only a suspect, and Williams hadn’t even been on their radar. They had not asked how Williams was involved, but why Pike thought he was involved. They hadn’t brought Pike in to find out what he knew-they wanted to know how he knew it.
Pike said, “I came to believe Williams was running the crew. We’ll know for sure after you run their guns.”
Deets shook his head.
“There is no we here. No we.”
The hand again.
Terrio said, “We have no physical evidence tying these people with what happened to Meyer or the earlier six robberies.”
“You do now. Run their guns.”
“How did you come to identify Williams as a person of interest?”
“Sources.”
Deets glared at the camera.
‘This is bullshit.”
Terrio slipped a spiral notepad from his pocket, and read an address.
“One of these sources live in Studio City?”
Pike didn’t respond. He was at Yanni’s apartment building in Studio City when he first saw the Sentra.
“How about on La Brea just south of Melrose? Maybe we’ll find one of your sources there, too.”
Terrio slipped the pad back into his pocket, then leaned forward again.
“Who killed these people?”
“ Don’t know.”
“Do you care?”
“No.”
Deets made a “ha,” then pushed from the corner.
“You would have popped them yourself, Pike. If you’d found those dudes alive, you would have fed them to the dogs just like the sonofabitch who left them there.”
Pike shifted his gaze to Deets.
“Not the lady.”
Terrio leaned back in his chair, studying Pike as he tapped the table.
“These three idiots-Williams, Johnson, and Renfro-they weren’t in this alone. Someone was pointing them in the right direction. You and I on the same page with that?”
“Yes.”
“Your sources tell you who they were working for?”
Pike studied Terrio for a moment, then glanced at the camera. Something about Terrio’s inflection suggested he already knew, and wanted to find out if Pike knew as well.
“Williams was working for a Serbian OC gangster named Michael Darko. Darko or someone working for Darko probably killed Williams and his crew.”
Terrio and Deets stared at him, and for a few seconds the interview room was quiet. Then a large, balding deputy chief opened the door. Darko was the magic word.
“Jack, let’s clear the room, please.”
Terrio and Deets left without a word. The chief followed them, and the woman Pike had seen in the backseat of Terrio’s car on the day they told him about Frank entered and closed the door. Blue blazer over a white shirt. Dark gray slacks. An angry slash for a mouth.
She studied Pike as if he were a lab specimen, then glanced up at the camera, hanging patiently from the ceiling. She went to the camera, unplugged it, then turned back to Pike.
She held up a federal badge.
“Kelly Walsh. I’m with the ATF. Do you remember me?”
Pike nodded.
“Good. Now that we’ve met, you’re going to do exactly what I say.”
As if she had no doubt it was so.
Part Three. It’s Personal
22
KELLY WALSH STOOD twelve inches from the table, close enough so he was forced to look up, but not so close as to touch the table. Pike recognized