Why would he have lied?

Because he thought telling the truth to a cop would arouse suspicion?

Or was it just as Marcella Otis had said, that maybe Bobby didn't want to think about his first foster mother's violent demise? Lieutenant Dawes had suggested the boy might have felt like less of a freak saying his mom had died of cancer than being known as the kid with multiple violent deaths in his life.

"You're just in time for the movie," Tippen said.

Liska joined him, sitting on the end of the table as Elwood stuck a videotape in the VCR and turned the television on.

"Why so glum?" Tippen asked.

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that every day of my life is about death and depravity and the decline of a once-great civilization."

"Oh, stop whining," Tippen said. "It could be worse. You could be the sheriff's deputy who didn't cuff Karl Dahl to the gurney."

"Any word on him, Dahl?"

"Nada. He'll probably resurface years from now, found to be working as director of a shelter for homeless women and children in Milwaukee. Credited with orchestrating the decline in the numbers of street people."

"Well, that cheered me up," Liska said. "Excuse me while I go slit my wrists."

Elwood hit the play b.u.t.ton, and the television screen filled with black-and-white snow, then a bird's-eye view of the lobby bar in the Marquette Hotel, date and time superimposed in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. The tape was clean, the picture sharp enough to easily make out faces. He hit fast-forward, racing through the tape to the time in question.

"There's David Moore and his amour," Tippen said, using a laser pointer to touch the screen.

"Eeww!" Liska said, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Moore's junkie wh.o.r.e girlfriend crawling all over him. "Get a room!"

Elwood goosed the tape ahead until Edmund Ivors joined the party, then goosed it a little more.

"Here he comes," Liska said.

Slender guy on the small side, dressed in black, fine blond hair almost to his shoulders. He could definitely have pa.s.sed as a woman, from a distance.

He walked up to the table, leaned down, and shook David Moore's hand, presenting his profile.

Tippen sat up straighter. "I know that guy! That's Long Donny. Long Donny Bergen."

"Who's Long Donny Bergen and why do they call him that?" Liska asked.

"He's a p.o.r.n star."

"Oh, gross!" Liska jumped off the table and looked at Tippen with disgust. "Don't tell me you're a fan! I don't want that in my head!"

"What?" Tippen asked, shrugging his shoulders. "The man is a star in his own right."

"Oh, yuck! And here I thought I already knew too much about you!"

"We know why you know him, Tip," Elwood said. "The question is: Why does David Moore know him?"

48.

GINNIE BIRD'Sbrother.

Well, why not keep it all in the family?Kovac thought as he sped back toward the Moore house. David Moore wanted his wife out of the way, Ginnie Bird wanted Carey Moore out of the way, and she happened to have a brother willing to do the job for twenty-five thousand dollars. Neat and tidy. What a pack of mutts--David Moore, his junkie wh.o.r.e girlfriend, and her brother the hit man.

Donny Bergen was slender, with shoulder-length blond hair. The cops on surveillance had seen the nanny's Saab come out of the garage Sat.u.r.day night with the slender blond nanny in it. The car had backed out of the garage in the morning with a slender blonde behind the wheel and driven away from them. They hadn't thought anything of it.

Moore would have given him the security code, which explained how Bergen gained entrance to the house without setting off the alarm.

Now the question of what might have happened to the nanny took on a more ominous tone. If Donny Bergen was willing to kill Carey, Anka Jorgenson might have been his first target. He might have killed her to get her car, to gain access to the Moore house via the garage.

One hand on the wheel, one on his cell phone, Kovac speed-dialed Liska. She answered on the second ring.

"What's up?"

"Are you at the station?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I need you to run a couple of names through the system for me. Virginia Bergen and Donny or Donald Bergen."

"Donny Bergen is the guy on the tape from the hotel bar," she said.

"I know. How do you know?"

"Tippen recognized him. He has a frighteningly extensive store of knowledge about the p.o.r.n industry."

"p.o.r.n?"Kovac said, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Long Donny Bergen, p.o.r.n star extraordinaire. What are you talking about?"

"He's Ginnie Bird's brother."

"Their mother must be so proud. Now what?"

"Send someone to his apartment. If he's there--which I doubt--pick him up for questioning."

He gave her the address he had badgered out of Ginnie Bird.

"I'll send Tippen," Liska said. "He can get an autograph from his hero."

Kovac could feel his blood pressure rising again. His head began to pound like a ba.s.s drum.

David Moore, you motherf.u.c.king son of a b.i.t.c.h.

David Moore, his junkie wh.o.r.e girlfriend, and her brother thep.o.r.n star hit man. How much deeper into the s.h.i.t could this creep go?

He didn't delve into Moore's connections to the p.o.r.n industry. At the moment, he didn't care. His immediate fantasy was to drag Moore into a small room and beat the answers out of him, then beat him some more just on principle.

That fantasy played over and over in his mind, making him angrier and angrier as he drove back to the Moore house. By the time he pulled into the Moores' driveway, he was breathing hard, and his neck felt hot.

News vans had descended on the block again as news of Carey Moore's disappearance had leaked. A mob with cameras, all of them shouting at once. They sounded like a cloud of locusts swarming. Kovac ignored them, stalking past the uniforms who stood guard at the door.

Inside the house, he turned and went straight for the den, where he could see David Moore standing in front of the fireplace. Logan stood with his back to the door. A third man was talking to Logan. Moore's eyes widened as Kovac came into the room, striding straight for him.

"You spineless piece of s.h.i.t!" Kovac shouted, jabbing an accusatory finger at Moore. "You f.u.c.king spineless piece of s.h.i.t! You and your junkie wh.o.r.e girlfriend and her p.o.r.n star brother are going to rot in prison till the day you die!"

Moore jumped back, knocking over the fireplace tools and tripping on them, falling against the wall.

Logan yelled, lunged, and grabbed Kovac, banding his arms around Kovac's shoulders.

The third man ran backward out of the way.

Kovac kept on shouting, kept trying to move forward, struggled to break free of Logan's hold. "I'll f.u.c.king nail your a.s.s to the wall! You are done! You are over!"

"Kovac!" Logan shouted in his ear.

"I don't know what he's talking about!" David Moore shouted.

"Kovac!" Lieutenant Dawes rushed into the room with two uniforms behind her.

The uniforms joined Logan in dragging and shoving Kovac back across the room toward the hall.

Dawes was shouting in his face. Kovac was so angry, he couldn't make sense of her words.

Out of the room, Logan pushed him back against a wall.

"What the h.e.l.l's the matter with you?" he shouted in Kovac's face.

Kovac shoved him back. "This is all him!" he shouted, pointing at the now-closed doors to the den. "She's gonna die because he didn't have the b.a.l.l.s to stand up and walk out--"

"That's enough!" Dawes shouted at him. "Not another word!"

Kovac held his hands up, forcing himself to lock down the fury. He was breathing hard, sweating like a horse. Logan stepped back, doing the same.

Dawes glared at Kovac. "What is this about?"

"The girlfriend's brother," he said. "The third guy at the bar was the girlfriend's brother, a p.o.r.n actor."

"I don't care if he was the devil himself," Dawes said. "What's the matter with you, coming in here like that? What were you going to do? Beat David Moore to death in front of his attorney? You're out of control, Detective."

Kovac walked around in a little circle, rubbing his hands over his face. He was shaking as the rush of adrenaline recycled itself.

"Go home," Dawes said.

Kovac looked at her.

"Go home," she said again.

"This is my case."

"You need to step back, Sam. Now."

He held up a hand, still pacing. "I'm all right. I was out of line."

"You wereway out of line. I can't have you threatening people. You'll be lucky if Moore's attorney doesn't demand you go before the civilian review board."

"f.u.c.king slimebag," Kovac muttered. "What rock did he crawl out from under?"

"It's Anthony Costello," Logan said. "He crawled out from under a very expensive rock."

Kovac shook his head. "Great. David Moore can have his wife kidnapped and murdered. Tony Costello can soak up Carey's money to defend the a.s.shole. AndI'm the one in trouble. Yeah, that's how the system should work."

"You're making this personal, Sam," Dawes said. "You know better."

Kovac sat down on the stairs, put his head in his hands, and let go a shuddering sigh. "I'm fine."

"You need to take a break."

"No."

"Sam--"

"Don't send me home, LT," he said, looking up at her. "I won't go. This is my case. Carey Moore is my responsibility. I won't walk away from that. Don't try to make me."

He looked at Logan, standing near the front door. Logan was watching him with eagle eyes.

Dawes's cell phone rang. She took the call, walking away.

"Twenty-five grand to a hit man," Kovac said. "That should buy him twenty-five to life, right?"

"Can you connect Moore to the hitter through the money?" Logan asked. "a.s.suming that's what's going on."

"I don't know. We need to crack open Moore's books."

"You think he's mixed up in the p.o.r.n business?"