just so crazy. Who goes to lunch and gets kidnapped? Here’s this stranger, and I walked over and did what he wanted. I feel stupid.”
“Don’t. You didn’t do this to yourself.”
“That’s what Janice said.”
“She’s right.”
Isabel sighed like she was catching her breath.
“Anyway, I hope they didn’t keep you too long.”
“Not long. We went over what happened.”
Pike’s interview had taken forty minutes. They asked the same questions Ito had asked, and recorded his answers. The only new information Pike provided was a description of the woman in the floral print dress, who may have seen Karbo push Isabel into Bender’s car.
“Janice told me you used to be a policeman.”
“Once.”
“Is the other thing true?”
“What?”
“You killed your partner and became a mercenary?”
A fountain burbled in the corner. Pike liked the sound.
Isabel said, “I don’t think they like you very much. She said you’re dangerous.”
“That’s in the past.”
“Not today. Not today it wasn’t.”
Pike said, “No.”
“Anyway. I wanted to thank you again. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“No, I do. You know what’s really scary?”
Pike waited.
“You not being there. I might be dead. I could’ve been one of those girls you hear about, they disappear, and some maniac keeps them in a secret room.”
“Stop thinking about it.”
“Sorry.”
“None of those things happened.”
“I know. I’m going to work tomorrow. I want to be around other people.”
“Good.”
“I’ll let you go. I just wanted to thank you.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
He waited for her to sign off, but she didn’t.
“People were all around, but you were the one who helped. Only you.”
“Good night, Izzy. Call if you need me.”
“I won’t bother you again.”
“You didn’t.”
She giggled.
“You’re a rockstar hero, but you’re a really bad liar. Good night, Joe.”
Pike lowered his phone, and returned to his dinner. He was concerned for her, and hoped she sought counseling. Pike had lived with violence for most of his life, but this was the first time violence had touched her. Pike pondered this as he ate. Once a person was touched, they were never the same.
Three days later, Isabel called.
8.
The Cherry Farm
Palmdale, California
Deputy U.S. Marshal Pryor Gregg followed his GPS south out of Palmdale along a twisting, two-lane road through low foothills and stretches of shriveled land. Gregg was tall, lean, and grim. He wore an immaculate dark brown suit, gold-rimmed sunglasses, and cowhide boots. His skin was as dark as his boots and weathered deep.
His phone said, “Turn left in one hundred yards.”
Gregg keyed his radio mic.
“Ten-twenty-three.”
“Copy. Inbound now.”
Gregg turned past a sun-faded billboard onto a gravel parking lot with a large, plywood fruit stand. The billboard read PICK YOUR OWN CHERRIES. An L.A. County Sheriff’s car was parked beside the fruit stand, and a uniformed deputy waited beside the car. The stand had been closed and locked for the season.
One car. A dep from the local substation. No tape. Gregg didn’t like it.
The deputy raised a hand.
Gregg squared a broad-brimmed Stetson hat on his head as he climbed from the car.
The deputy offered his hand along with an uneasy smile. Mid-to-late thirties. Friendly. Too many donuts.
“They said you’d be right out. Cal Stella. Pleased to meet you.”
Gregg flipped his commission case, flashing the badge. A silver ring surrounded a silver star, set in black leather.
“Pryor Gregg. Marshals Service. How long has the scene been clear?”
“Since yesterday. Crime scene guys finished up. Body’s down in L.A. with the coroner.”
Gregg had already spoken with the Sheriff’s detective-in-charge and the Medical Examiner on his drive up from Los Angeles.
“We’re closing it. Let’s see what you have.”
Stella shrugged toward the trees behind him.
“Right over here. Not far.”
Gregg took a moment to consider their surroundings. Cherry trees stood in neat rows behind and surrounding the stand. The leaves were dark green and pointed, but the trees hadn’t yet flowered. Gregg had studied the area using a satellite view when he got the call, but the world always changed with boots on the ground. A truck sped past. An SUV filled with women. Two kids on motorcycles.
“Let’s see.”
Stella led him back through the trees to a mound of dark earth and a shallow depression. Little metal stakes marked by bright yellow tape still ringed the area. Stella pointed at the hole as if Gregg wouldn’t see it.
“This is where she found him.”
Gregg studied the hole and the trees. He heard cars pass on the road and the hiss of a high desert breeze, but saw nothing but trees.
“What was she doing out here?”
“Who?”
“The lady who found him.”
“Irrigation. Checks the hoses couple of times a week. Checks the