Killer Ambition - [33]

“How in the hell did he and Hayley…?” he asked, looking bewildered.

“We think Brian sought her out,” I said.

Russell covered his face with his hands, then rubbed his temples. He choked back a sob and began to pound the arm of the couch. “No, no, no!” He spit the words out as though they were rocks that’d been stuck in his throat. Then he suddenly jumped to his feet and began to storm around the room. “That goddamn crazy asshole! That psychotic son of a bitch raised a fucking lunatic of a kid! I want that piece of shit obliterated!”

Throughout all this, Raynie keened like a wounded animal, arms wrapped around her midsection, rocking back and forth. “No, no, no, no!” Her agony was almost too painful to witness. She folded forward and hugged her knees, head on her lap.

I could see that Bailey was feeling the heartbreak as deeply as I was. We did what we could to console them, but nothing can make you feel more useless than trying to assuage the pain of losing a child. It was a tragedy like no other. The death of a son or daughter upends the universe-parents predecease children, not the other way around. And I knew that the hole we’d just torn in Russell’s and Raynie’s lives today would never be fully healed.

Before we left, Bailey and I promised to do everything in our power to bring Brian to justice. Raynie nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

But I knew what she was thinking. We could catch Brian, we could take him to trial, we could get him convicted and locked up forever. But we could never bring Hayley back.

18

We headed back downtown in silence. In the past few hours, the sky had gone from a deep, penetrating blue to an ominously heavy cloud bank of blacks and grays. We drove through a darkness that made mid-afternoon feel like the dead of night. I rolled down the window and the thick damp breeze clung to my face and crawled down my neck. A weird stillness filled the air, as though the planet were waiting for something.

At the corner of Fifth and Broadway, a man in a black top hat, dressed in jeans and a black blazer, waited at the light. He was sitting on a piece of canvas stretched across the frame of a walker, except the walker had four wheels and a basket. When the light changed, he popped up and pushed the contraption across the street, whistling the chimney-sweep song from Mary Poppins.

Bailey and I watched him. “Fellini wasn’t really stretching much, was he?” I said.

Bailey’s mouth twisted in a half smile. I knew it was all she could manage. “Want to head over to the coroner’s?” she asked.

“Sure. And we need a specialist to look at that plant debris.”

“Dorian’s probably already got someone.” Bailey got back on the freeway and headed for North Mission Road. “I’ve been wondering whether the aunt…”

“Janice.”

“Right. Whether she was lying? Now that we know Brian’s in New York, since he used Hayley’s iPad there…”

I’d been thinking about that too. “She sure didn’t sound like she had anything to hide. But then again, you never know.”

Bailey nodded. “Just wondering.”

“Did you ever find out what name that ticket to Paris was purchased under?”

Bailey smacked the steering wheel. “Damn. I’ll check into it when we get back.”

The coroner’s office was a bust. The pathologist who was assigned to our case, Dr. Vendi, wasn’t available, and Scott was out in the field, so I couldn’t bribe him into giving us a look at any preliminary notes. Bailey left instructions to bag and tag the plant debris for analysis, just to be on the safe side, and we drove back to the Police Administration Building.

“Graden said he’d tell the brass about Hayley,” I said.

“I’m sure there’ll be a presser of some kind pretty soon, then. You better get ready.”

The murder of a superstar director’s daughter was big news, and that meant both Bailey’s shop and mine would be under siege. “I’ll make the call when we get upstairs.” It really wasn’t a DA’s bailiwick to talk to the press before there was a suspect in custody, but Vanderhorn would want in on it anyway. Thanks to yours truly, he could legitimately claim that the DA’s office was working closely with the LAPD. Just as Bailey was pulling into the parking lot, the clouds opened up and big fat drops began to splatter the windshield.

She looked up at the sky. “I got a feeling this one’s going to be the real deal.”

As if to prove her right, a deafening clap of thunder boomed and a jagged streak of lightning cut across the sky.

“Damn, it’s the apocalypse,” I said.

“And not a bit too soon.”

As we headed for Bailey’s desk, I was, for a change, presentable and ready to run into Graden. Of course that meant there was no way I was going to see him.

Bailey picked up a manila envelope that was on top of her in-box stack. “Looks like we got Brian’s birth records.” She handed the envelope to me and picked up the phone.

I pulled out the records and saw the little tiny footprint. No one could have predicted that innocent little foot would turn out to be the foot of a vicious killer.

“He bought the Paris ticket under ‘Shandling,’” Bailey said.