her. It tapped the back of her skull as it passed by. He told me it made the faintest groove on the bone right here.’
Raveneau touched his skull where the stitches were.
‘Did you learn any more from her?’
‘Not really. She believes he was male and of fairly sturdy build.’
‘Which fits Stoltz.’
‘It could. Or someone else we’ve been questioning. Carl Heilbron.’
‘I’m guessing it wasn’t coincidence.’
Raveneau didn’t respond to that. It was an inane statement. He left Ramirez and rode the elevator down. Several reporters hustled toward him as he walked out.
‘Can you confirm the shooter was Cody Stoltz?’
Someone in TV who ought to know once told him that national news was purely an entertainment business driven by constant market research polling, and to complain about endless nights of repetitive coverage of whatever current story they were selling was just naïve. He’d bragged that most of the time his national network decided what was news. Celebrities with brand names were easy to market, so significant lasting stories got built around them. Raveneau knew there was a higher plane of cynicism he had only glimpsed at, but he was pretty sure how the media would play this one.
It would be a more immediately saleable story if the wounded homicide inspector had died here in the hospital with her last words being, find my killer. But that’s the breaks of the story-making business. You’ve got to work with what you have. Still, the story-makers were hard at work shaping the expectation – SFPD homicide detail and family versus unknown but driven and capable assailant.
So now it was a chase and a hunt, a reality-based action show where more might get killed and the stakes and the ratings were driven higher. Who doesn’t love a good task-force sized hunt? Talk about turning the tables on a stalker, the media would compete to join the hunt, and you know what, Raveneau was OK with that. They needed the media’s help.
He saw some familiar faces among the reporters, but ignored their calls on the way to his car. But as he drove away he did take a call from a reporter he knew and answered the questions as honestly as he could.
‘Is there any true evidence that points toward Cody Stoltz?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then why hasn’t he come in with a lawyer and challenged this?’
‘You’ll have to ask him.’
‘OK, all right, but you’re looking for him.’
‘Yeah, we are.’
‘And he’s trying not to get found?’
Raveneau didn’t see any need to answer that one. His mind drifted back to la Rosa, how close a call it was.
‘Was Inspector la Rosa able to give a clear description?’
‘No.’
‘Will she recover more memory, more of a description?’
‘Maybe, but I doubt it. The assailant had a mask on and it happened fast.’
‘Does that mean that, other than it was a Volvo he was driving, you have little to go on?’
‘Right now, that’s accurate.’
‘OK, one last question, if you were Stoltz and you hadn’t killed anybody and didn’t plan to, what would you do now?’
‘I’d call a lawyer and have him arrange a surrender.’
‘Does that mean you’d arrest and charge him?’
‘I can’t answer that.’
‘Perfect. Thanks, Ben, talk to you later.’
FORTY-TWO
San Francisco homicide inspectors are expected to clock in, work an eight hour day, and get approval for any overtime. If approved, you filled out one of the little salmon-pink cards, but Raveneau often ignored that. He worked whatever it took.
He was standing at the windows drinking coffee and watching the dawn when he heard the office door open. A few minutes later Lieutenant Becker walked back.
‘I’m not in today,’ Becker said, voice flat, eyes bloodshot as Raveneau turned and looked at him. ‘I was at the hospital all night. My brother isn’t doing well.’
Raveneau put an arm around Becker’s shoulders, knowing there was little he could say. He washed two mugs and brought Becker coffee. Then they stood at the windows as the sky turned pink with sunrise.
‘My brother’s daughter, my niece, Jolie, just turned seventeen. She and her dad are close but she’s a troubled kid, problems with drugs, a new tattoo or piercing every three weeks, and a knack for hanging out with all the wrong people. In any group she’ll figure out the one who’s going to get arrested and gravitate toward them unconsciously. But underneath it, she’s a good kid. It’s looking like they’re going to charge her former boyfriend and I don’t know how Jolie’s going to handle it. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Where’s her mom?’
‘In Minnesota with two young