ahead, a bright gold star beneath the overcast, calling for a future that could have been. At the base of the hills they turned east again, climbing into the Los Feliz foothills.
Traffic thinned to residents, so Pike killed his lights again. An oncoming car flashed its headlights. When Pike didn’t respond, they flashed again. The driver shouted as the car passed.
“No lights, stupid!”
Pike tried to spot the 4Runner ahead, but it was gone.
Pike drove faster, hoping to catch sight of them on the other side of each curve, but one curve flowed into the next, and the 4Runner didn’t appear. Then he rounded yet another curve at the top of a ridge, and stopped short. The 4Runner was disappearing into a three-car garage directly ahead. Pike reversed into shadows, and watched the garage door rumble closed.
Pike pulled to the curb, and shut the engine.
The three-car garage belonged to a large, Spanish-style home with white stucco walls, arched windows, and a heavy tile roof. A dim ochre glow leaked from a second-floor window at the far end of the house, but the home was otherwise dark. A FOR SALE sign stood near a decorative gate by the street. Pike saw no movement or life even though Boris and Spot had arrived.
Pike wondered if Isabel was in the mansion. Hicks might be inside, and more men like Boris and Spot, but Pike finally decided none of this mattered. Isabel was in the house, or she wasn’t. Only Isabel mattered.
Pike googled the broker’s website, and checked the listing. The home contained five bedrooms and seven baths spread over fifty-six hundred square feet. Photos revealed a third level below, a pool, and a deck and balconies with “breathtaking” views of the city. Pike also learned that terraced steps on both sides of the house led down to the pool, and a grand staircase in the entry climbed to the upper floor bedroom suites. A second, smaller staircase on the far end of the house, dubbed a “servants’ stair” by the realtor, connected all three floors. Pike knew the layout when he left the realtor’s website.
Pike clipped the Python under his shirt, snugged the straps on his vest, and made his way to the side of the house. He saw no cameras or motion sensors, but knew they were easily hidden.
Pike followed the terraced steps down to the pool, and stood in the darkness at the edge of the deck. Rain dripped from his hair and ran down his face. He tucked his sunglasses into a pocket. The rear of the house was as dark as the front except for a single lit room on the main level above. Pike crossed the deck for a closer look.
The main floor above opened to a balcony overlooking the pool. Glass doors faced the balcony, allowing residents to enjoy the view, and Mexican tile steps provided easy access to the pool. Boris stood in the kitchen, holding a long-neck bottle of beer and a bag of French fries. A balcony door off the kitchen stood open for air.
Spot paced into view, talking on a cell phone. He took a fry from Boris’s bag, and left the kitchen.
Pike drew his pistol, climbed to the balcony, and stepped through the door into a large, empty room. On the realtor’s website, the room had been described as a family room, and was beautifully decorated. Now, the room was empty, and as dark as a closet. Pike moved to the edge of the light.
Boris stood at the kitchen’s island, dealing burgers and fries from a white paper bag. His back was turned. Pike listened for Spot, but heard only the crinkle of wrappers.
Fully loaded, Pike’s pistol weighed almost three pounds. He stepped into the kitchen, and hit Boris behind the right ear with the flat of his gun. Half-chewed burger and lettuce sprayed the island, and the bag of hamburgers fell. Pike hit Boris again. The big man sagged, but Pike pinned him upright against the island, and covered the door with his gun. Pike held the aim, but no one approached.
Boris made a low groan.
Pike twisted Boris’s arm behind his back, locked the elbow, and swung Boris around to face the door. Pike showed Boris the Python, and snugged the muzzle under his jaw.
Pike whispered.
“Make noise, I’ll kill you.”
Pike stressed the arm, and whispered again.
“Don’t speak. Nod. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Pike stressed the arm harder.
“Don’t speak.”
Boris nodded.
Pike whispered, “Isabel.”
Boris nodded.
“She’s here?”
Nod.
“Where? Answer.”
Boris whispered.
“Upstairs.”
“The other guy, he’s with her? Answer.”
“He’s coming back.”
“Others here?