"If Random was her contact officer, we can still--"

She held up a hand, cutting him off as the person she called answered.

"Yeah, it's me. What did you get on Alison Whitt?"

Holman waited, watching as Pollard stiffened. Holman knew it was bad even before Pollard lowered the phone. He could read it in the way her shoulders dipped. Pollard stared at him for a moment, then shook her head.

"Alison Whitt was not a registered informant with the Los Angeles Police Department."

"So what do we do?"

Pollard didn't answer right away. He knew she was thinking. He was thinking, too. He should have expected it. He knew better than to expect anything to work out.

Pollard finally answered.

"I have her arrest record at my house. I can see who the arresting officers were. Maybe we were wrong in thinking she was a registered informant. Maybe she was just feeding some guy on the sly and I'll recognize a name."

Holman smiled, and, again, it was more for himself than her. He took in the lines of her face and the way her hair fell, and remembered again the first time he saw her, pointing a gun at him in the bank.

"I'm sorry I got you into this."

"We are not finished with this. We're close, Max. Random is all over both sides of this crazy thing and all we need is the one missing piece to have it make sense."

Holman nodded, but he felt only loss. He had tried to play this the right way, the way you're supposed to play it when you live within the law, but the right way hadn't worked out.

"You're a special person, Agent Pollard."

Her face tightened and she was that young agent again.

"My name is Katherine. Call me by my G.o.dd.a.m.n name."

Holman wanted to hold her again. He wanted to hold her close and kiss her, but doing so could only be wrong.

"Don't help me anymore, Katherine. You'll only get hurt."

Holman started toward his car, and now Pollard followed him.

"Waitaminute. What are you going to do?"

"Get new stuff and drop off the grid. They had me and they're going to come for me again. I can't let that happen."

He got into his car, but she stood inside the door and wouldn't let him close it. Holman tried to ignore her. He wedged his screwdriver into the busted ignition and twisted it to start the engine. Pollard still didn't get out of the way.

"What are you going to do for money?"

"Chee gave me some money. I have to go, Katherine. Please."

"Holman!"

Holman looked up at her. Pollard stepped back, then closed the door. She leaned into the window and touched his lips with hers. Holman closed his eyes. He wanted it to go on forever, but knew, like every other good thing in his life, it would not last. When he opened his eyes again, she was watching him.

She said, "I'm not going to quit."

Holman pulled away. He told himself not to look back. He had learned the hard way that looking back was when you got into trouble, so he told himself not to look, but he glanced in the mirror anyway and saw her in the street, watching him, this incredible woman who had almost been part of his life.

Holman wiped his eyes.

He stared ahead.

He drove.

They hadn't been able to put the pieces together, but that no longer seemed to matter. Holman was not going to let them get away with Richie's murder.

Chapter 45.

POLLARD WAS FURIOUS. Marki had used all the right terms in relating what Whitt told her about being an informant--the registration, the cap, the approval; civilians didn't know these things unless they knew them firsthand, so Pollard still believed Whitt had been telling the truth.

Pollard one-handed a call back to Sanders as she blasted up the Hollywood Freeway. She hadn't wanted to get into it in front of Holman, but now she wanted details.

"Hey, it's me. Can you still talk?"

"What's wrong?"

"This girl was an informant. I want you to check again."

"Hey. Whoa. I'm doing you a favor, remember? Leeds would have my a.s.s if he found out."

"I'm sure this girl wasn't lying. I believe her."

"I know you believe her. I can hear your belief coming through the phone, but she wasn't on the list. Look--maybe some cop was paying her out of his own pocket. That happens all the time."

"If somebody was using her off the books she wouldn't have known about payouts being capped and having to be approved. Think about it, April--she was the real thing and she had a cop backing her."

"Listen to me: She was not on the list. I'm sorry."

"Maybe she's under an alias. Check her arrest record for--"

"Now you're being stupid. n.o.body gets paid under an alias."

Pollard drove in silence for a while, embarra.s.sed by her desperation.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"You know I'm right. What's going on with you, girl?"

"I was sure."

"She was a wh.o.r.e. Wh.o.r.es lie. That's what they do--you're my best lover, you made me come so good. C'mon, Kat. She made it sound good for her friend because she can make anything sound good. That's what they do."

Pollard felt ashamed of herself. Maybe it was Holman. Maybe she needed it to work out for him so badly she had lost her common sense.

"I'm sorry I freaked out on you."

"Just bring me some more donuts. I'm starting to lose weight. You know I like to keep my weight up."

Pollard couldn't even bring herself to smile. She closed her phone and brooded about it as she drove home, her thoughts swinging between her disappointment that Alison Whitt had lied about being an informant and her surprise that Mrs. Marchenko had not identified Random as the fifth man.

It was as if she and Holman had uncovered two separate cases, with Random on both sides--Fowler's search for the missing money and Warren Juarez's alleged murder of the four officers. Random had been a princ.i.p.al in the Marchenko investigation and now he controlled the investigation into the murders. Random had immediately closed the murder investigation by naming Warren Juarez the a.s.sailant even though unanswered questions remained. He had denied that Fowler and the others were in any way connected to Marchenko and had actively suppressed further inquiry; so actively, it was clear he was hiding something.

Only Fowler and his boys had been searching for the money, and they hadn't been searching alone; at least one other person was involved--the fifth man. Someone had given them copies of Robbery Special reports they otherwise would not have been able to acquire, and two of those reports had been written by Random, who later confiscated those reports from Richard Holman's apartment. Someone had also accompanied Fowler to see Mrs. Marchenko, and Pollard believed it likely this was the same person who provided Fowler with information learned from Alison Whitt. Pollard believed Alison Whitt was now the telling key and would still likely connect everything to Random.

But Pollard still had a problem with Maria Juarez. When she disappeared, Random had issued a warrant for her arrest, yet Chee claimed the police had taken her from her cousins' home. Now, Holman had seen her in Random's custody. If Random was covering the true murderer of the four officers, why would he hold Maria Juarez captive and not simply kill her? Since her visit to the murder scene, Pollard believed the four officers had knowingly let their killer approach. If the killer was Juarez and if the officers were at the bridge that night on their search for the money, then Juarez must have had a connection with Marchenko. Maybe Maria Juarez knew what her husband had known, and Random needed her help to find the money. This would explain why she was still alive, but Pollard wasn't happy with the explanation. She was guessing, and guesses were a sucker's game in any investigation.

Pollard was trying to reconcile why so much of what she had didn't add up when she pulled into her drive. She hurried through the h.e.l.lish heat and let herself into the house. She stepped through the front door, her irritation about Alison Whitt now being replaced by her dread at the inevitable phone call to her mother. She was lost in thought as she entered her house, thinking how absolutely nothing was going to work out, when a red-haired man waiting inside pushed the door out of her hands, slamming it shut.

"Welcome home."

Pollard startled so badly she jerked backwards as another man stepped from the hall, this man holding a credential case with a badge.

"John Random. We're the police."

Chapter 46.

POLLARD SPUN into Vukovich, driving her elbow hard into his ribs. Vukovich grunted and jerked to the side.

"Hey--"

Pollard spun in the opposite direction, thinking she had to get to the kitchen and then out the back door, but Random was already blocking her path.

"Hold it! We're not going to hurt you. Hold it!"

Random had stopped between Pollard and the kitchen and had come no closer. He was holding up both hands with his badge dangling over his head and Vukovich had made no further move. Pollard edged sideways to see both of them at the same time.

Random said, "Take it easy now. Just relax. If we wanted to hurt you would we be standing here like this?"

Random lowered his hands, but made no move forward. It was a good sign, but Pollard still edged to the side, eyes going between them, kicking herself for leaving her service pistol in the box in her closet, thinking, how stupid could you be? Thinking she might be able to get one of the kitchen knives, but she'd hate to fight these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds with a knife.

"What do you want?"

Random studied her for a moment longer, then put away his badge.

"Your cooperation. You and Holman have been messing things up for us. Will you give me a chance to explain?"

"Is that why you grabbed him, to explain?"

"I wouldn't be here now and telling you what I'm about to tell you if you hadn't forced my hand."

Vukovich was leaning against the door, watching her, but his eyes were curious and his manner relaxed. Random seemed irritated, but his eyes were tired and his suit was rumpled. Nothing about their body language was threatening. Pollard felt herself begin to relax, but she was still wary.

She said, "Question."

Random opened his hands, saying go ahead, ask.

"Who murdered those men?"

"Warren Juarez."

"Bulls.h.i.t, Random. I don't believe you and I don't believe they just happened to be under that bridge. They were looking for Marchenko's money."

Random opened his hands again and shrugged, the shrug saying he could take it or leave it whether she believed him.

"Yes, they were looking for the money, but Juarez was the shooter. He was hired by someone to kill them. We're trying to identify the person who hired him."

"Stop lying to me. Holman saw Maria Juarez with you at the house."

"Not lying. That house is a safe house. She was there voluntarily at our request."

"Why?"

"Juarez didn't commit suicide. The person who hired him murdered him. We believe he was hired because of his connection with Fowler and that the person who hired him planned to kill him from the beginning. We grew worried that this person might also murder his wife. We brought Holman to the house so Maria could tell him herself. I didn't expect him to believe me otherwise."

Pollard watched Random as he spoke and believed he was telling the truth. Everything he was saying made sense. She thought it through and finally nodded.

"All right. Okay, I buy that, but why did you have Chee arrested? I don't get that."

Random glanced at Vukovich before looking back at her. He shook his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Holman's friend, Chee--Gary Moreno. He was raided this morning and taken into custody. We thought that was you."

"I don't know anything about it."

"What are we talking about, Random? Am I supposed to believe it was a coincidence?"

Random looked blank, but he glanced at Vukovich again.