Part 2 (1/2)

ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, Jacobi and Cappy entered the squad room. They were pus.h.i.+ng a large redheaded biker type, his hands cuffed behind his back.”Look who decided to drop in.” Jacobi smirked.Red jerked his arms defiantly out of Cappy's grip as the policeman shoved him into Interrogation Room 1, where he tripped over a wooden chair and crashed to the floor.”Sorry, big fella.” Cappy shrugged. ”Thought I warned you about that first step.””Richard Earl Evans,” Jacobi announced. ”AKA Red, Boomer, Duke. Don't feel insulted if he doesn't stand up and shake hands.” ”This is what you thought I meant by no contact?” I said, looking cross but inside delighted that they had brought him in.”The guy's got a CCI sheet so long it begins with ' me Ishmael.'” Jacobi grinned. ”Theft, aggravated mischief, attempted murder, two weapons charges.””Behold,” exclaimed Cappy, producing a dime bag of marijuana, a five-inch hunter's blade, and a palm-sized Beretta.22-caliber pistol out of a Nordstrom's shopping bag.”He know why he's here?” I asked.”Nah,” Cappy grunted. ”We busted him on the gun charge. Let him cool his jets in the backseat.”The three of us crowded into the small interrogation room facing Richard Earl Evans. The creep leered up at us with a smug grin, sleeves of tattoos covering both arms. He wore a black T-s.h.i.+rt with block letters on the back: ”If You Can Read This... the b.i.t.c.h Must've Fallen Off!”I nodded, and Cappy freed him from the cuffs. ”You know why you're here, Mr. Evans?””I know you guys are in deep s.h.i.+t if you think I'm talking to you.” Evans sniffed a mixture of mucus and blood. ”You got no teeth in Vallejo.”I raised the bag of dope. ”Santa seems to have brought you a lot of naughty toys. Two felonies... still on parole for a weapons charge. Time at Folsom, Quentin. My sense is you must like it there, ' next time up, you qualify for the thirty-year lease.””One thing I do know,” - Evans rolled his eyes - ”is you didn't drag me all this way for some two-bit weapons rap. The sign on the door says Homicide.””No, big fella, you're right,” Cappy injected. ”Tossing your sorry a.s.s in jail on a gun charge is only a hobby for us. But depending on how you answer a few questions, that weapons rap could determine where you spend the next thirty years.””Pups.h.i.+t,” the biker grunted, leveling his cold, hard eyes in his face. ”That's all you a.s.sholes got on me.Cappy shrugged, then brought the flat end of an unopened soda can down hard on the biker's hand.Evans yelped in pain.”d.a.m.n, I thought you said you were thirsty,” Cappy said contritely.Red leered at Cappy, no doubt imagining running over the cop's face with his bike.”But you're right, Mr. Evans,” I said. ”We didn't ask you down here to go over your current possessions, though it wouldn't take much to hand your sorry a.s.s right over to the Vallejo police. But today could work out lucky for you. Cappy, ask Mr. Evans if he'd like another drink.”Cappy feinted, and Evans jerked his hand off the table.Then the big cop opened the can and placed it in front of him, grinning widely. ”This all right, or would you prefer a gla.s.s?””See,” I a.s.sured him, ”we can be nice. Truth is, we don't give a s.h.i.+t about you. All you have to do is answer a few questions and you'll be headed home, compliments of the SFPD. You never have to see us again. Or we can lock your three-time-loser a.s.s on the tenth floor for a few days until we remember we got you here and notify the Vallejo police. And, when it comes to a third felony offense, we'll see about just how much teeth we really have.”Evans ran his hand across the bridge of his nose, dabbing at the blood. ”Maybe I will take a swig of that soda, if you're still offering.” ”Congratulations, son,” Jacobi said. ”That's the first thing you've done that makes sense since we set eyes on you.”

Chapter 38.

I LAID OUT A BLACK-AND-WHITE surveillance photo of the Templars in front of Red's startled face. ”First thing we need to know is where can we find your buddies?”Evans looked up grinning. ”So that's what this is all about?””C'mon, sharp-as-nails,” pressed Jacobi,” the lieutenant asked a question.”One by one, I spread on the table three more photos showing various members.Evans shook his head. ”Never ran with those guys.”The last photo I put down was a surveillance shot of him.Cappy reached out, all two hundred fifty pounds of him, and raised the biker by the s.h.i.+rt, lifting him out of his seat.”Listen, cods.h.i.+t, you're only lucky we're not concerned here with what you sorry bunch of losers got off doing. So act smart and you'll be outta here, and we can go on to what we do give a s.h.i.+t about.”Evans shrugged. ”Maybe I did run a bit with them. But no more. Club's disbanded. Too much heat. I ain't seen these guys around here in months. They split. You wanna find them, start with Five South.”I looked at the two inspectors. As much as I doubted whether Evans would actually turn over on his buddies, I believed him.”One more question,” I said. ”A big one.” I laid down the photo of the biker with the chimera jacket. ”What does this mean to you?”Evans sniffed. ”The dude's got bogus taste in attire?”Cappy leaned forward.Evans recoiled. ”It's a symbol, man. Means he's in the movement. A patriot.” ”A patriot?” I asked him. ”What the h.e.l.l is that supposed to mean?””An advocate of the white race, the self-determination of a free and orderly society.” He smiled at Cappy ”Present company excluded, of course. Course, none of this s.h.i.+t necessarily reflects my personal views.””Did this guy head off to the Sun belt, too?” Jacobi asked.”Him? Why? What do you think he's done?””There he goes” - Cappy stood over him - ”answering questions with questions again.””Look.” Evans swallowed. ”The brother only hung with us a short while. I don't even know his real name. Mac. Mcmillan, Mcarthur? What'd he do?”I figured there was no reason not to tell him what we thought. ”What's the word about what happened in La Salle Heights?”Red finally flinched. His pupils widened. All of a sudden, it was falling into place. ”You think my old dudes lit up that church? This guy... Mac?””You know how we could talk to him?” I said.Evans grinned. ”That's a tough order. Even for you.” ”Try us,” I said. ”We're resourceful.””I'm sure you are, but this f.u.c.ker's dead. Back in June. He and a partner blew themselves up, in Oregon. Sonofab.i.t.c.h must've read somewhere you could turn cows.h.i.+t into a bomb.”

Chapter 39.

IN THE SMALL BLACKTOP PARKING LOT adjacent to the La Salle Heights Church, Cindy Thomas climbed out of her Mazda. Her stomach growled, telling her that it didn't quite know what she was doing here.She took a breath and opened the large oak door into the main chapel. Just yesterday it had been filled with the choir's resonating sound. Now it was eerily quiet, the pews empty. She walked through the chapel and into a connecting building.A carpeted hallway led to a row of offices. A black woman, glancing up from a copy machine, asked, ”Can I help you? What do you want?””I'm here to see Reverend Winslow.””He's not seeing visitors now” the woman said.Winslow's voice rang out from one of the offices.”It's all right” Carol.”Cindy was led to his office. It was small, crowded with books. He was wearing a black T-s.h.i.+rt and khakis, and didn't look like any minister she'd ever known.”we managed to get you back after all,” he said. Then finally, he smiled.He had her take a seat on a small couch and he sat in a well-worn red leather chair. A pair of gla.s.ses was resting on a book nearby, and she instinctively sneaked a peek. A Heart-breaking Work of Staggering Genius. Not what she would have expected.”You mending?” she asked.”Trying to. I read your story today It was terrible about that policeman. It's true? Tasha's murder might be tied up with two others?””The police think so,” Cindy answered. ”The M.E. believes she was deliberately shot.”Winslow grimaced and then shook his head. ”I don't understand. Tasha was just a little girl. What possible connection could there be?””It wasn't so much Tasha” - Cindy held eye contact with Aaron Winslow - ”as what she represented. All the victims apparently have a link to San Francisco cops.Winslow's eyes narrowed. ”So tell me, what brings you back so soon? Your soul aching? Why are you here?”Cindy lowered her eyes. ”The service yesterday It was moving. I felt chills. It's been a long time for me. Actually, I think my soul has been aching. I just haven't bothered to notice.”Winslow's look softened. She'd told him a small truth, and it had touched him. ”Well, good. I'm glad to hear you were moved.”Cindy smiled. Incredibly, he made her feel at ease. He seemed centered, genuine, and she'd heard nothing but good things about him. She wanted to do a story on him, and she knew it would be a good one, maybe a great story.”I bet I know what you're thinking,” Aaron Winslow said.”Okay.” she said, ”shoot.””You're wondering... the man seems together enough, not completely weirded out. He doesn't seem like a minister. So what is he doing making his living working like this?”Cindy flashed an embarra.s.sed smile. ”I admit, something like that did cross my mind. I'd like to do a story about you and the Bay View neighborhood.”He seemed to be thinking it over. But then he changed the subject on her.”What is it you like to do, Cindy?””Do?””In the big, bad world of San Francisco you cover out there. After you call in your story. What moves you besides your job at the Chronicle? What are your pa.s.sions?”She found herself smiling. ”Hey, I ask the questions. I want to do a story on you. Not the other way around,” she said. ”All right. I like yoga. I take a cla.s.s twice a week on Chestnut Street. You ever do yoga?””No, but I meditate every day.” Cindy smiled some more. She wasn't even sure why.”I'm in a women's book club. Two women's clubs, actually. I like jazz.”Winslow's eyes lit. ”What kind of jazz? I like jazz myself.”Cindy laughed. ”Okay, now we're getting somewhere. What kind of jazz do you like?””Progressive. Interpretive. Anything from Pine-top Perkins to Coltrane.””You know the Blue Door? On Geary?” she asked.”Of course I know the Blue Door. I go there Sat.u.r.day nights, whenever Carlos Reyes is in town. Maybe we could go sometime. As part of your story. You don't have to answer right now.” ”Then you agree to let me do a piece on you?” Cindy said.”I agree... to let you do a piece on the neighborhood. I'll help you with it.”A half hour later, in her car, Cindy sat letting the engine run, almost too astonished to put it in gear. I don't believe what I just did... Lindsay would rap her in the head. Question whether her gadgets were properly working.But they were working. They were humming a little, actually. The tiny hairs on her arms were standing straight up.She had the beginnings of what she thought might be a good story, maybe a prizewinner.She'd also just accepted a date from Tasha Catchings's pastor, and she couldn't wait to see him again.Maybe my soul has been aching, Cindy thought as she finally drove away from the church.

Chapter 40.

IT WAS CLOSE TO SEVEN on Sat.u.r.day. The end of a long, insane, incredibly stressful week. Three people had died. My only good leads had come and gone.I needed to talk to somebody, so I went up to eight, where the D. A.'s staff was located. Two doors down from the big man himself was Jill's corner office.The executive corner was dark, offices empty, staff scattered for the weekend. In a way, though I needed to vent, I was sort of hoping Jill - the new Jill - would be at home, maybe picking through swatch books for her baby's room.But as I approached, I heard the sound of cla.s.sical music coming from within. Jill's door was cracked half open.I knocked gently and pushed it in. There was Jill, in her favorite easy chair, knees tucked to her chest and a yellow legal pad resting on them. Her desk was piled high with briefs.”Why are you here?” I asked.”Snagged.” She sighed, raising her hands in mock surrender. ”It's just this G.o.dd.a.m.n Perrone thing. Closing arguments Monday morning.” Jill was at the end of a high-profile case in which a derelict landlord was being charged with manslaughter after a faulty ceiling caved in on an eight-year-old child.”You're pregnant, Jill. It's after seven o'clock.””So is Connie Sperling, for the defense. They're calling it the Battle of the Bulge.””Whatever they're calling it, so much for the s.h.i.+ft of gears.”Jill turned down the CD player and extended her long legs. ”Anyway, Steve's out of town. What else is new? I'd only be doing the same thing if I were at home.” She c.o.c.ked her head and smiled. ”You're checking up on me.””No, but maybe someone should.””Good lord, Lindsay, I'm just preparing notes, not running a ten-k. I'm doing fine. Anyway.” - she glanced at her watch - ”since when did you turn into the poster girl for keeping everything in perspective?””I'm not pregnant, Jill. All right, all right - I'll stop lecturing.”I stepped inside her office - eyed her women's final four soccer photo from Stanford, framed diplomas, and pictures of her and Steve rock climbing and running with their black Lab, Snake Eyes.”I still have a beer in the fridge if you want to sit,” she said, tossing her legal pad on the desk. ”Pull a Buckler out for me.”I did just that. Then I s.h.i.+fted the black Max Mara suit jacket hastily thrown over a cus.h.i.+on and sank back in the leather couch. We tilted our bottles, and both of us blurted in the same breath, ”So... how's your case?””You first.” Jill laughed.I spread my thumb and index finger barely a half inch apart to indicate basically zip. I took her through the maze of dead ends: the van, the chimera sketch, the surveillance photo of the Templars, that CSU had come up with nothing on, the Davidson ambush.Jill came over and sat beside me on the couch. ”You want to talk, Linds? Like you said, you didn't come up here to make sure I was behaving myself.”I smiled guiltily then placed my beer on the coffee table.”I need to s.h.i.+ft the investigation, Jill.” ”Okay,” she said. ”I'm listening This is just between us.”Piece by piece, I laid out my theory that the killer was not some reckless, hate-mongering maniac but a bold, plotting pattern killer acting out a vendetta.”Maybe you're overreaching,” Jill replied. ”What you do have is three terror crimes aimed at African Americans.””So why these victims, Jill? An eleven-year-old girl? A decorated cop? Estelle Chipman, whose husband has been dead for five years?””I don't know, honey. I just nail ' to the wall when you turn them over.” I smiled. Then I leaned forward. ”Jill, I need you to help me. I need to find some connection between these victims. I know it's there. I need to check out past cases in which a white plaintiff was victimized by a black police officer. That's where my gut leads me. It's where I think these killings might start. It has something to do with revenge.””What happens when the next victim never had anything to do with a police officer? What are you gonna do then?”I looked at her imploringly. ”Are you going to help me?””Of course I'm going to help you.” She shook her head at me. ”Duh... Anything you can give me that will help me narrow it down?”I nodded. ”Male, white. Maybe a tattoo or three.””That oughtta do it.” She rolled her eyes.I reached out and squeezed her hand. I knew I could count on her. I looked at my watch. Seven-thirty. ”I better let you finish up while you're still in your first trimester.””Don't go, Lindsay.” Jill held my arm. ”Stick around.”I could see something on her face. That clear, professional intensity suddenly weakened into a thousand-yard stare.”Something wrong, Jill? Did the doctor tell you something?”In her sleeveless vest, with her dark hair curled around her ears, she looked every bit the power lawyer, number two in the city's legal department. But there was a tremor in her breath. ”I'm fine. Really physically, I'm fine. I should be happy, right? I'm gonna have a baby. I should be riding the air.””You should be feeling whatever you're feeling, Jill.” I took her hand.She nodded gla.s.sily. Then she curled her knees up to her chest. ”When I was a kid, I would sometimes wake up in the night. I always had this little terror, this feeling that the whole world was asleep, that around this whole, huge planet, I was the only one left awake in the world. Sometimes my father would come in and try to rock me to sleep. He'd be downstairs in his study, preparing his cases, and he'd always check on me before he turned in. He called me his second chair. But even with him there, I still felt so alone.”She shook her head at me, tears glistening in her eyes.”Look at me. Steve's away for two nights and I turn into a f.u.c.king idiot,” she said.”I don't think you're an idiot,” I said, stroking her pretty face.”I can't lose this baby, Lindsay. I know it seems stupid.I'm carrying a life. It's here, always in me, right next to me. How is it I feel so alone?”I held her tightly by the shoulders. My father had never been there to rock me to sleep. Even before he left us, he worked the third s.h.i.+ft and would always head to Mcgoey's for a beer afterward. Sometimes I felt like the heartbeat that was closest to me was the pulse of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds I had to track down.”I know what you mean,” I heard myself whisper. I held Jill. ”Sometimes I feel that way, too.”

Chapter 41.

ON THE CORNER of Ocean and Victoria, a man in a green fatigue windbreaker hunched chewing a burrito as the black Lincoln slowly made its way down the block. He had waited here dozens of nights, stalked his next prey for weeks.The person he had watched for so long lived in a pleasant stucco house inside Ingleside Heights, just a short walk away.He had a family, two girls in Catholic school; his wife was a registered nurse. He had a black Lab; sometimes it bounded out to greet him as his car pulled up. The Lab was named Bullitt, like the old movie.Usually the car drove by around seven-thirty. A couple of times a week, the man got out to walk. It was always at the same spot, on Victoria. He liked to stop at the Korean market, chat with the owner as he picked out a melon or a cabbage. Playing the big man walking among his people.Then he might mosey into Tiny's News, stuff his arms with a few magazines: Car and Driver, PC World, Sports Ill.u.s.trated. Once, he had even stood behind him in the line as he waited to pay for his reading material.He could have taken him out. Many times. One dazzling shot from a distance.But no, this one had to be up close. Eye to eye. This murder would blow the lid off everything, the entire city of San Francisco. This would take the case international, and not many got that big.His heart sprung alive as he huddled in the damp drizzle, but this time the black Lincoln merely pa.s.sed by.So it won't be tonight. He exhaled. Go home to your little wife and dog... But soon... You've grown forgetful, he thought, balling his burrito in the wrapper and tossing it in a trash bin. Forgetful of the past. But it always finds you.I live with the past every day.He watched as the black Lincoln, its windows dark, made its customary left turn onto Cerritos and disappeared into Ingleside Heights.You stole my life. Now I'm going to take yours.

Chapter 42.

I TOOK SUNDAY MORNING OFF to run Martha by the bay and do my tai chi on the Marina Green. By noon I was in jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt, back at my desk. By Monday, the investigation was listing toward the dead zone, no new angles to work. We were putting out releases just to keep the press off our tail. Each stalled line of questioning, each frustrating dead end only narrowed the time to when Chimera would strike again.I was returning some case files to Jill when the elevator door opened and Chief Mercer ambled in. He looked surprised when he saw me but not displeased.”Come take a ride with me,” he said.Mercer's car was waiting along the side entrance on Eighth Street. As the police driver leaned back, Mercer told him, ”West Portal, Sam.”West Portal was a diverse middle-cla.s.s neighborhood out of the center of the city. I didn't know why Mercer would be dragging me out there in the middle of the day.As we rode, Mercer asked a few questions but stayed mostly silent. A tremor shot through me: He's gonna take me off the case.The driver pulled onto a residential street I had never been on before. He parked in front of a small blue Victorian across from a high school playground. A pickup basketball game was going on.I blinked first. ”What was it you wanted to talk about, Chief?”Mercer turned to me. ”You have any personal heroes, Lindsay?””You mean like Amelia Earhart or Margaret Thatcher?” I shook my head. I had never grown up with those. ”Maybe Claire Washburn.” I grinned.Mercer nodded. ”Arthur Ashe was always one of mine. Someone asked him if it was hard to cope with AIDS, and he answered, ' nearly as hard as it was to deal with growing up black in the United States.'”His expression deepened. ”Vernon Jones tells the mayor that I've lost sight of what's really at stake in this case.” He pointed toward the blue Victorian across the street. ”You see that house? My parents' house. I was raised there.”My father was a mechanic in the transit yards, and my mother did the books for an electrical contractor. They worked their whole lives to send me and my sister to school. She's a trial litigator now, in Atlanta. But this is where we're from.””My father worked for the city, too.” I nodded.”I know. I never told you, Lindsay, but I knew your father.””You knew him?””Yeah, we started out together. Radio cops, out of Central. Even s.h.i.+fted together a few times. Marty Boxer... Your father was a bit of a legend, Lindsay, and not necessarily for exemplary duty.””Tell me something I don't know.” ”All right.” He paused. ”He was a good cop then. A d.a.m.ned good cop. A lot of us looked up to him.””Before he bagged out.”Mercer looked at me. ”You must know by now, things happen in a cop's life that don't always break down so easily into choices the rest of us can understand.”I shook my head. ”I haven't spoken to him in twenty-two years.”Mercer nodded. ”I can't speak for him as a father, or as a husband, but is there a chance that as a man, or at least a cop, you've judged him without knowing all the facts?””He never stuck around long enough to present the facts,” I said.”I'm sorry,” Mercer said. ”I'll tell you some things about Marty Boxer, but another time.””Tell me what? When?”He drew down the privacy barrier and instructed his driver that it was time to head back to the Hall. ”When you find Chimera.”

Chapter 43.

LATER THAT NIGHT, as his Town Car slowed in the evening traffic near his home, Chief Mercer spoke up from the backseat. ”Why don't I get out here, Sam.”His driver, Sam Mendez, glanced back. The mandate from the Hall was no unnecessary risks.Mercer was firm on the matter. ”Sam, there's more cops on patrol in a five-block radius here than there are back at the Hall.” There was usually a patrol car or two cruising on Ocean and one stationed across from his home.The car eased to a stop. Mercer opened the door and thrust his heavy shape onto the street. ”Pick me up tomorrow, Sam. Have a good night.”As his car pulled away, Mercer lugged his thick briefcase in one hand and threw his tan raincoat over his shoulder with the other. He experienced a surge of freedom and relief. These little after-work excursions were the only times he felt free.He stopped at Kim's Market and picked out the sweetest-looking basket of strawberries, and some choice plums, too. Then he wandered across the street to the Ingleside Wine Shop. He decided on a Beaujolais that would go with the lamb stew Eunice was making.On the street, he glanced at his watch and headed toward home. On Cerritos, two stone pillars separated Ocean from the secure enclave of Ingleside Heights. The traffic disappeared behind him.He pa.s.sed the low stone house belonging to the Taylors.A noise rustled out from a hedge. ”Well, well, Chief?”Mercer stopped. His heart was already pounding.”Don't be shy. I haven't seen you in years,” the voice said again. ”You probably don't remember.”What the h.e.l.l was going on?A tall, muscular man stepped out from behind the hedge.He was wearing a c.o.c.ky smirk, a green windbreaker wrapped around him.A vague recognition came over Mercer, a familiarity in the face he couldn't quite place. Then all at once it came back to him. Suddenly, everything made sense, and it took his breath away.”This is such an honor,” the man said. ”For you.”He had a gun, heavy and silver. It was extended toward Mercer's chest. Mercer knew he had to do something. Ram him. Get to his own gun somehow. He needed to act like a cop on the street again.”I wanted you to see my face. I wanted you to know why you were dying.””Don't do this. There are cops everywhere around here.””Good. That makes it even better for me. Don't be scared, Chief. Where you're going, you'll be running into a lot of your old friends.”The first shot struck him in the chest, a burning, clothes-searing thud that buckled his knees. Mercer's first thought was to shout. Was it Parks or Vasquez stationed in front of his house? Only precious yards away. But his voice died inaudibly in his chest. Jesus G.o.d, please save me.The second shot tore through his throat. He didn't know if he was up or down. He wanted to charge the killer. He wanted to take this b.a.s.t.a.r.d down. But his legs felt - paralyzed, inert.The man with the gun was standing over him now. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was still talking to him, but he couldn't hear a word.His face kept melting in and out of focus. A name flashed in his mind. It seemed impossible. He said it twice just to be sure, his breath pounding in his ears.”That's right,” the killer said, leveling the silvery gun.”You've solved the case. You figured out Chimera. Congratulations.”Mercer thought he should close his eyes - when the next bright orange flash exploded in his face.

Chapter 44.

I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER what I was doing when I heard the news. I was home, tending a pot of farfalle on the stove. ”Adia” by Sarah Mclachlan was playing on the stereo.Claire was coming over. I'd lured her for dinner with my famous pasta with asparagus and lemon sauce. Not lured her, actually... begged. I wanted to talk about something other than the case. Her kids, yoga, the California Senate race, why the Warriors sucked. Anything.I will never forget... Martha sat toying with a headless San Francisco Giants mascot bear that she had appropriated to her side of the property list. I was chopping basil; I checked on the pasta. Tasha Catchings and Art Davidson had drifted out of my mind. Thank G.o.d.The phone rang. A selfish thought knifed through me, hoping that it wasn't Claire bagging out of our date at the last minute.I cradled the phone in the nape of my neck and answered.It was Sam Ryan, the department's chief of detectives.Ryan was my administrative superior in the chain of command. At the sound of his voice, I knew something had to be seriously wrong.”Lindsay, something terrible has happened.”My body went numb. It was like someone had reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart in their indifferent fist. I listened to Ryan speak. Three shots from point-blank range... Only a few yards from his house. Oh, my G.o.d... Mercer... ”Where is he, Sam?””Moffitt. Emergency surgery. He's fighting.””I'll be right down. I'm on my way.””Lindsay, there's nothing you can do here. Get out to the scene.””Chin and Lorraine will cover it. I'll be right down.”The doorbell buzzed. As if in a trance, I rushed over, opened it.”Hey,” said Claire.I didn't say a word. In an instant, she recognized the pallor on my face. ”What's happened?”My eyes were wet. ”Claire... he shot Chief Mercer.”

Chapter 45.

WE RACED DOWN THE STEPS, climbed into Claire's Pathfinder, and made the dash from Potrero to the California Medical Center all the way over in Parna.s.sus Heights. The entire ride, my heart pumped madly and hopefully The streets blurred by - Twenty-fourth, Guerrero, then across the Castro on Seventeenth to the hospital atop Mt. Sutro.Barely ten minutes after I got the call, Claire spun the Pathfinder into a restricted parking s.p.a.ce across from the hospital entrance.Claire ID'd herself to a nurse at the front desk, asking for an up-to-date report. She looked worried as she charged inside the swinging doors. I ran up to Sam Ryan. ”What's the word?”He shook his head. ”He's on the table now. If anyone can take three bullets and make it through, it's him.”I flipped open my cell phone and patched into Lorraine Stafford at the scene. ”Things are crazy here,” she said.”There's people from Internal Affairs, and some G.o.dd.a.m.n city crisis agency And the f.u.c.king press. I haven't been able to get close to the radio cop who was first on the scene.””Don't let anyone other than you or Chin get close to that scene,” I told her. ”I'll be out there as soon as I can.”Claire came back out of the ER. Her face was drawn.”They've got him open now, Lindsay. It doesn't look good. His cerebral cortex was penetrated. He's lost a ton of blood. It's a miracle he's hung on as long as he has.””Claire, I've got to get in there to see him.”She shook her head. ”He's barely alive, Lindsay.Besides, he's under anesthesia.”I had this mounting sense that I owed it to Mercer, each unresolved death. That he knew, and if he died the truth would die with him. ”I'm going in there.”I pushed through the doors leading to the ER, but Claire held on to me. As I looked into her eyes, the last glimmer of hopefulness drained out of my body. I had always fought with Mercer, battled him. He was someone to whom I felt I always had something to prove, and prove again and again.But in the end, he had believed in me. In the strangest of ways, I felt as if I were losing a father all over again.Barely a minute later, a doctor in a green smock came out, peeling off latex gloves. He said a few words to one of the mayor's men, then to the a.s.sistant chief, Anthony Tracchio.”The chief's dead,” Tracchio uttered.Everyone stood staring blankly ahead. Claire put an arm around me and hugged.”I don't know if I can do this,” I said, holding tightly on to her shoulder.”Yes, you can,” she said.I caught Mercer's doctor as he headed back to the ER. I introduced myself. ”Did he say anything when he was brought in?”The doctor shrugged. ”He held on for a while, but whatever he said was incoherent. Just reflexive. He was on life support from the moment he came in.””His brain was still working, wasn't it, Doctor?” He had faced his killer head-on. Taken three shots. I could see Mercer holding on just long enough to say something. ”Anything you remember?”His tired eyes searched for something. ”I'm sorry, Inspector. We were trying to save his life. You might try the EMS techs who brought him in.He went back inside. Through the windows in the ER doors, I caught a glimpse of Eunice Mercer and one of their teenage daughters, tearfully hugging in the corridor.My insides felt as if they were ripping apart, a knot of nausea building.I ran into the ladies' room. I bent over the sink and splashed cold water all over my face. ”G.o.dd.a.m.n it! G.o.dd.a.m.nit!”When my body calmed, I looked up in the mirror. My eyes were dark, hollow and blank; voices drummed loudly in my head.Four murders, they tolled... Four black cops.

Chapter 46.

STAFFORD walked me down from the stone gate on Cerntos”The chief was on his way home.” She bit her bottom lip. ”He lived a couple of houses down that way. No witnesses, but his driver's over there.”I went to the spot where Mercer's body had been found.Charlie Clapper's team was already combing all around it. It was a quiet, residential street, the sidewalk guarded by a high hedge that would've blocked anyone from seeing the killer.The spot had already been chalked off. Blotches of blood soaked the pavement inside the outline of the body. The remains of his last moments, some plastic bags containing magazines, fruit, and a bottle of wine, were scattered around.”Didn't he have a car stationed in front of his house?” I asked.Lorraine nodded toward a young uniformed officer leaning against the hood of a blue-and-white. ”By the time he got down here, the perp had fled and the chief was bleeding out.”It became clear the killer had been lying in wait: He must've hidden in the bushes until Mercer came by. He must've known. Just like he knew with Davidson.From up on Ocean, I saw Jacobi and Cappy coming toward us. The sight of them made me exhale with relief.”Thanks for coming down,” I whispered.Then Jacobi did something totally uncharacteristic. He grasped my shoulder and looked firmly into my eyes. ”This is gonna get big, Lindsay; Feds are gonna come in. Anything we can do, anything you need, anytime you need to talk about it. You know I'm here for you.”I turned to Lorraine and Chin. ”What do you need to finish up here?””I want to check along the escape route,” Chin said. ”If he had a car parked, someone must've seen it. Otherwise, maybe someone saw him come out on Ocean.” ”f.u.c.king chief.” Jacobi sighed. ”I always thought the guy would hold a news conference at his own funeral.””We still cla.s.sifying this as a hate crime, Lieutenant?”Cappy sniffed.”I don't know about you,” I said, ”but I hate this b.a.s.t.a.r.d pretty bad.”