Crais, Robert - Elvis Cole 09 - The Last Detective by Crais Robert

Author:Crais, Robert [Crais, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-12-13T23:56:23+00:00

Mike pushed him into the passenger side, then got in behind the wheel with his shotgun. The garage door opened, and Mazi and Eric drove away. Ben watched Eric's pistol go with them, cocked, good to go, with one in the box. It was like seeing a life preserver drift out of reach while he drowned.

Mike started the engine.

You just sit still and be cool like before, and everything will work out all right.

Mike put the shotgun on the floor so that it rested between his legs. Ben looked at it. He had a twenty-gauge Ithaca shotgun at home and had once killed a mallard.

Ben stared hard at the shotgun, and then stared at Mike.

I know how to shoot.

Mike said, So do I.

They backed out of the garage.

20 time missing: 49 hours, 28 minutes P ike was waiting for me at one of those flat anonymous office buildings that were clustered all through Downey and the City of Industry, just south of LAX; cheap buildings thrown up by aerospace companies during the defense boom in the sixties, surrounded then as now by parking lots jammed with midsized American cars driven to work by men wearing ill-fitting dark suits.

When I got out of my car, Pike studied me in that motionless way he has.

I said, What?

They have a bathroom in here.

He brought me into the lobby. I went into the men's room, turned on the hot water, and let it run until steam fogged the mirror. DeNice's blood was still speckled around my nails and in the creases of my skin. I washed my hands and arms with green soap, then put them under the running hot water. My hands turned bright red again, almost as red as the blood, but I kept them in the water trying to burn them clean. I washed them twice, then took off my shirt and washed my face and neck. I cupped my hands and drank, then looked at myself in the mirror but I was hidden by fog. I went back to the lobby.

We walked up three flights of stairs and into a waiting room that smelled like new carpet. Polished steel letters on the wall identified the company: THE RESNICK RESOURCE GROUP-Problem Resolution and Consultation.

Problem resolution.

A young woman smiled at us from a desk built into the wall.

May I help you?

She had an English accent.

Pike said, Joe Pike for Mr. Resnick. This is Elvis Cole.

Ah, yes. We're expecting you.

A young man in a three-piece suit came out of a door behind the receptionist and held it for us. He was carrying a black leather bag.

Afternoon, gentlemen. You can come with me.

Pike and I stepped past him into a hall. As soon as we were out of the waiting room, the young man opened the bag. He was fit, with the pleasant professional expression of a mid-level executive on the way up. He wore an Annapolis class ring on his right hand.

I'm Dale Rudolph, Mr. Resnick's assistant. The weapons go in here and will be returned when you leave.

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