the guns,” I said to Rio, reaching across to slap all the laptops shut. The firearms on the table had disappeared along with Rio before I’d finished speaking. I knew without asking that he’d gone to take up an invisible defensive position.
Just in case.
Diego materialized by my elbow. “What’s happening?”
“Cops. Did you call it in?”
“No. Not yet. It must have been someone else.”
I hadn’t expected him to, not with the warning he’d given me the night before about Arthur’s former colleagues. Speaking of … I held up the screen.
“This guy anyone you know?”
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Who?”
“His name is Sikorsky. He worked with Arthur.” Diego glanced toward Tabitha and Juwon, who were still sitting wide-eyed, and Matti and Roy, who had appeared in the kitchen doorway behind them. “Kids, upstairs, now.”
His voice was quiet, but it was the type of intense, urgent tone a person would obey and then wonder why later. The children scampered.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded as they went, keeping my voice low. “What’s the deal with this guy? Excessive force? Old grudge against Arthur? Talk fast.”
Someone pounded on the door so hard, the wall shook.
“I believe—I think he is a criminal,” Diego said equally low. “And that Arthur knew.”
Great. A dirty cop who knew Arthur had been sitting on evidence against him would have every incentive not to see Arthur found after such a convenient disappearance.
The thumping knock came again, rattling the picture frames on the front wall. “Open up, Rosales. LAPD.”
Disappearing into the shadows along with Rio probably would’ve been the smartest play for me, but a strong sense of foreboding made me decide Diego could use a visible witness. It wasn’t like even clean cops had a stellar record when it came to leaving them alone with brown men.
I followed Diego into the foyer. He glanced behind him up the stairs to make sure all the kids were clear before settling his hand on the lock, taking a breath, and then pulling the door open.
Sikorsky pushed inside, crowding Diego back toward the stairway. “About time, Rosales. I was this close to kicking it in, and that would be a costly fix for you, what with twenty little fosterlings or whatever you have these days.” He looked around the foyer. “Where are they? Unless after Tresting’s thuggery, you kicked them all out of the house.”
A few muscles jumped under Diego’s skin, but he didn’t rise to a response.
Sikorsky shoved past us into the living room, uninvited, picking up books and knickknacks and examining them with an expression of revulsion. “Guess not. More fool you. Who the hell are you?”
He hadn’t looked around, but I was pretty sure the question was directed at me. “A friend,” I said. I pulled out the Cassie Wells ID. “I’m helping out.”
Sikorsky swiped the fake PI license from me, read it, looked me up and down like I was a rotting piece of meat, and then tore the license in half and let the pieces flutter to the floor. “You interfere with the real cops, I’ll do a lot worse than this.”
The threat was so theatrical, it was hard to take him seriously. “Okay.”
“What do you want?” demanded Diego in a tight voice.
Sikorsky spun back to face us, every movement that of a man who liked to literally throw his weight around. “I wasn’t kidding about the tykes. I know they’re here. Get them down here or I’ll start dragging them to the station.”
“On what grounds?” Diego said.
“On the grounds I said so, that’s what,” Sikorsky answered. “They’re growing up, ain’t they? No more getting off with wiped juvie records. Something’ll stick.”
Diego moved subtly so he was between Sikorsky and the path to the stairs.
“What do you want with the kids?” I said.
Sikorsky narrowed his eyes at me. Then he tossed the decorative mug he’d just picked up into the corner so it broke in two pieces and said to Diego, “Where was your youngest at approximately 3:00 p.m. yesterday?”
My skin went cold. Tabitha had visited my erstwhile office at just about that time.
“I’ve got witness reports,” Sikorsky said, “before you lie to me.”
“I think I should call a lawyer,” Diego said.
“You do that, this is a thing.” The words were a clear threat. “Don’t make it a thing, Rosales.”
Diego folded his lips together.
“Kids,” shouted Sikorsky, his voice a bullhorn. “Get out here or I’m arresting your father.”
Something thumped upstairs. Sikorsky grinned, his lips peeling back from coffee-stained teeth. More thumps, and Tabitha squeezed into the room behind her