Killer Ambition - [27]

“Yeah. Call Toni.”

I pulled out my phone, but the battery was almost gone, so I borrowed Bailey’s cell.

Perch was a bar and restaurant that occupied the top two floors of a building that overlooked Pershing Square, which was across the street from the Biltmore. Both floors had rooftop bars, and especially in the summer, it was heaven to have drinks up there at night. A summer day in L.A. can be hot as blazes, but it’s a semi-desert, so at night the temperature can drop as much as thirty degrees. That can make outdoor dining a chilly affair. Not tonight. Tonight the air was so soft and balmy, it almost felt tropical. A perfect night for martinis on an open rooftop, where we could watch stars twinkle above and the city lights sparkle below, all around us. As we sipped our drinks, Bailey and I brought Toni up to speed on the case.

“So, girl hates dad and wants to pay him back for dumping mom and going for a younger version,” Toni said. “Girl meets boy who also hates her dad and wants to pay him back for stealing a script from his father. It’s a match made in heaven.”

“Young love is a beautiful thing,” I said.

“Think they’re having a blast in the Big Apple on daddy’s ransom money even as we speak?” Toni said.

“We don’t have confirmation that they actually boarded a flight yet. But I’m hoping-”

“It’d be the best thing if that’s how it works out,” Toni finished.

I nodded and lifted my martini glass. “To rebellious teens, who are alive and well-”

“-and playing on daddy’s money,” Toni added.

Bailey grimaced, but we all clinked and sipped.

It was good to finally exhale. In fact, we exhaled so much, we lost interest in going to a restaurant and wound up back at my place with room service.

We talked and laughed until it was too late for Toni to go home, so she crashed on the pullout bed in the living room. I fell into my bed, tired but relaxed, and set my alarm for the civilized hour of eight o’clock.

14

I must have been dreaming about flying, because when I woke to the ringing of a bell, I felt as though I’d come crashing out of the sky.

I opened my eyes and reached out to hit the “snooze” button. But the clock said it was only four a.m. Then it hit me that the sound I’d heard wasn’t my alarm, it was Bailey’s phone. I’d forgotten to give it back to her last night. I forced my eyes to focus-not easy when you’ve been flying in your sleep-and answered. “’Lo?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Detective Keller. This is Officer Bander, Airport Division. We’ve located that car-”

Car? Which…? Then my brain kicked into gear. Brian’s car. I probably should’ve told Officer Bander that I wasn’t Bailey, but I wanted to hear the news.

“Where?”

“In Parking Lot C, a remote lot. What do you want me to do?”

I couldn’t give orders…well, I could, but I shouldn’t.

“Secure the lot and tape off the area around the car. Don’t let anyone near it until I get there. I’m on my way.”

As I ended the call, I thought I’d done a pretty good job impersonating Bailey. Then I ran to wake up the real article. We dressed quickly in jeans and sweatshirts-it’d be cold out there now-and I left a note for Toni, who was still fast asleep.

When we got into the car, Bailey threw me her phone. “You’re so good at being me, put in the call to SID and get a criminalist to meet us there. Try for Dorian.”

The streets were empty at that hour, and Bailey practically took us there on two wheels. Though I’d fastened my seat belt, I had to hold on to the dash while I made the call to keep from falling all over the car.

The vast Parking Lot C, a cheap option because you had to take a shuttle to the airport from there, was brightly lit. But at this hour, the lot was still and quiet, which gave me the eerie feeling that we were the only survivors in a postapocalyptic world. Bailey drove slowly as we looked for signs of life. Finally, at the far corner of the lot, we saw the blue and red flashing lights of police cars. As we drew nearer, I could see that crime scene tape had been put up to enclose a white vehicle within a twenty-foot radius.

Bailey parked and we walked up to one of the officers guarding the perimeter and identified ourselves.

He lifted the crime scene tape for us and we ducked under. “Officer Bander’s handling the scene. He’s right over there.” He pointed to a short man who was standing near the trunk of the car.

When we got closer, I saw that he was much younger than his voice had sounded on the phone. Bailey and I introduced ourselves again and she asked whether he’d seen anything inside. He handed her his flashlight-one of those super-heavy big black ones that double as a weapon-and I watched as she played the light around the interior of the car.

“I don’t see anything,” I said. “You?”

Bailey shook her head, and I stepped back to give her room as she circled the car with the flashlight. She paused and trained her beam on the trunk area. Still focused on the trunk, she asked, “Who found the car?”

“I did,” Officer Bander said. “I started with the closest lots and worked my way out.”

That was one hell of a lot of canvassing. There were a ton of parking lots. Just covering the closest lots at the terminal would’ve taken a couple of hours.