the box under his arm.
“What you doin’, man, thass his things!”
Pike noticed a large blue purse on the dresser. He went through it and found Carla’s wallet.
“I ain’t got no money in there.”
Pike wasn’t looking for money. Seeing Mendoza’s family photos gave him an idea. Her wallet held a vinyl picture holder, and the first picture was Reuben Mendoza. Mendoza was smiling so wide he looked like a pumpkin. Pike took the picture, then placed the purse back on the dresser.
“You fuckin’ thief. I’m call in’ five-oh.”
Pike decided there was nothing more to be had, and walked out of the room. Carla Fuentes trailed after him, anxiously pulling his arm.
“Let me ask you somethin’. If he skips on the bond, they really gonna take my house?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s not my fault if he runs.”
“You signed the bond.”
“Waitaminute. Wait, now, what about this? If he gets himself killed, will I still lose the house? If he’s dead, they can’t blame me for that, can they? They won’t take the house?”
Pike stopped when he reached the door.
“No. You’ll lose the bond fee and application, but the court will release the bond back to the bondsman.”
“What does that mean?”
“You won’t lose the house.”
She thought it through, and some of the terror left her eyes.
“What you gonna do if you find him?”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Break his other damned arm. Break it real good, then beat him to death.”
Pike stepped into the sun and headed back to the Monte Carlo.
14
Pike climbed into the Monte Carlo, but this time into the passenger seat, leaving Hector tied to the wheel. Hector once more scrunched as far from Pike as possible.
“Look at my hands, homes. Look at’m! They’re turnin’ blue!”
Pike fingered through the papers in the box, wanting to see what he had.
“You gonna let me go? You gotta let me go, bro, this shit here is kidnap-pin’. That’s a federal offense.”
“Shut up.”
Hector fell silent, but grumbled under his breath.
Pike found cash receipts and instructions for three disposable phones Mendoza purchased from Best Buy. Pike wondered if his friend Elvis Cole could use the information to locate Mendoza or identify who he was calling. Cole was a private investigator, and had relationships with most of the cell service providers. He might also be able to help find Alberto Gomer.
Pike studied Reuben Mendoza’s picture last, then dropped it into the box. A plan to flush Mendoza out of the weeds was forming, and the picture would help.
Pike said, “Hold still.”
Hector’s eyes bulged when Pike drew his knife. Pike clipped the ties, cutting him free.
“Get out.”
“What get out? This is my car.”
“Out.”
“Bro, what, you takin’ my car?”
“I won’t tell you again.”
Hector shoved open the door, and got out in a sullen funk. He slammed the door as Pike slid behind the wheel.
“This ain’t right, stealin’ my car. You takin’ my wallet, too? You takin’ my phone?”
Pike drove back to his Jeep. He left Hector’s wallet in the Monte Carlo, but added his phone to Mendoza’s box. Pike didn’t take time to examine these things because he wanted to keep pressing.
Pike drove directly to Lily Palmer’s house, parked in Wilson’s carport, and rang the bell. She answered the second ring.
“I knew you’d be back. Did you find Wilson and Dru?”
“Not yet. Is Jared here?”
She sighed.
“Jared’s always here.”
She called into the house, and Jared’s flip-flops announced his approach. He was freshly slathered with sunblock and carried a bottle of beer. He frowned when he saw Pike and tugged the iPod buds from his ears.
“Dude, you got it all. I don’t know anything else.”
“The man with the cast—”
Pike showed him the picture of Reuben Mendoza.
“Was this him?”
Jared glanced at the picture, then brightened with a surprised smile that made him look proud of himself.
“Dude! That’s him! The Cast Man!”
“You’re sure?”
“Fuckin’ A.”
Jared beamed, and continued to vomit up memories.
“Dude had khaki baggies and a gray plaid shirt, but it was open. Shirt was huge, dude, like fifty sizes too big, and a white T-shirt underneath. And he was bald.”
Pike had seen witnesses have similar explosions of memories when he was an officer. If a witness was given a visual trigger, a memory that had been vague would often snap into focus. Psychologists called these memory cues, and the resulting cascade of recollections were memory chains.
“You remember anything about the second man?”
Jared thought for a moment, but his lips peeled from his teeth in frustrated effort.
“Not really getting him. He was in front, kinda already through the gate. The Cast Man was behind