it was a convenient target.
Reese accessed the police department’s data banks at headquarters and
requested on-file messages. Softly glowing green letters scrolled up on
the video display. It was a report from the uniformed officers who’d
gone to the morgue, at Julio’s direction, to ascertain if the scalpel
and bloodstained morgue coat found in the dumpster could be traced to a
specific employee on the coroner’s staff. Officials at the coroner’s
office were able to confirm that a scalpel, lab coat, set of hospital
whites, surgical cap, and a pair of antistatic lab shoes were missing
from the morgue’s supplies closet. However, no specific employee could
be linked with the theft of those items.
Looking up from the VDT, gazing at the night, Julio said, “This murder
is somehow tied to the disappearance of Eric Leben’s body.”
“Could be coincidence,” Reese said.
“You believe in coincidence?”
Reese sighed. “No.”
A moth fluttered against the windshield.
“Maybe whoever stole the body also killed Ernestina,” Julio said.
“But why?”
“That’s what we must find out.”
Julio drove away from the Hernandez house.
He drove away from the fluttering moth and the whispering leaves.
He turned north and drove away from downtown Santa Ana.
However, although he followed Main Street, where closely spaced
streetlamps blazed, he could not drive away from the deep darkness, not
even temporarily, for the darkness was within him.
1,38 AM.
They reached Eric Leben’s Spanish-modern house quickly, for there was no
traffic. Night in that wealthy neighborhood was respectfully still.
Their footsteps clicked hollowly on the tile walkway, and when they rang
the doorbell, it sounded as if it were echoing back to them from the
bottom of a deep well.
Julio and Reese had no authority whatsoever in Villa Park, which was two
towns removed from their own jurisdiction. However, in the vast urban
sprawl of Orange County, which was essentially one great spread-out city
divided into many communities, a lot of crimes were not conveniently
restricted to a single jurisdiction, and a criminal could not be allowed
to gain time or safety by simply crossing the artificial political
boundary between one town and another. When it became necessary to
pursue a lead into another jurisdiction, one was required to seek an
escort from the local authorities or obtain their approval or even
enlist them to make the inquiries themselves, and these requests were
routinely honored.
But because time was wasted going through proper channels, Julio and
Reese frequently skipped the protocol. They went where they needed to
go, talked with whomever they needed to talk, and only informed local
authorities when and if they found something pertinent to their caser if
a situation looked as if it might turn violent.
Few detectives operated that boldly. Failure to follow standard
procedures might result in a reprimand. Repeated violations of the
rules might be viewed as a dismal lack of respect for the command
structure, resulting in disciplinary suspension. Too much of that, and
even the finest cop could forget about further promotions-and might have
to worry about hanging on to collect his pension.
The risks did not particularly concern Julio or Reese.
They wanted promotions, of course. And they wanted their pensions.
But more than career advancement and financial security, they wanted to
solve cases and put murderers in prison. Being a cop was pointless if
you weren’t willing to put your life on the line for your ideals, and if
you were willing to risk your life, then it made no sense to worry about
small stuff like salary increases and retirement funds.
When no one responded to the bell, Julio tried the door, but it was
locked. He didn’t attempt to void the lock or force it. In the absence
of a court order, what they needed to get them into the Leben house was
probable cause to believe that criminal activity of some kind was under
way on the premises, that innocent people might be harmed, and that
there was nothing less than a public emergency.
When they circled to the back of the house, they found what they needed,
a broken pane of glass in the French door that led from the patio into