Mike had left his new Lexus van parked in front of the Damen house early this morning, and now he and Ryan stood beside it talking as Clyde made a show of calling Joe.
Waiting a few moments to make it look good, Joe sauntered out from the bushes as if he'd been there all the while, sleeping or hunting gophers. He glanced at Ryan, a sly and conspiratorial exchange. He rubbed against Clyde's ankles in loving greeting, a nice touch that didn't escape Mike. Then he trotted off across the little front lawn, skinned up the oak tree, and disappeared from their view in acceptable feline style. And he took off across the roofs, heading fast for Gibbs's condo. Clyde had no time to call him back, and couldn't have argued with him anyway in front of his father-in-law.
AT MOLENA POINT PD, Dulcie knew neither that Sage had run away and Charlie and Kit were following him, nor that at that moment Joe was bolting across the roofs above her, heading straight into trouble. She sat on the dispatcher's counter sharing Mabel's roast beef sandwich, waiting for an update on what had happened at the ruins, waiting impatiently for Joe.
Looking out the glass door, she saw Ryan and Mike drop Lindsey off, saw Rock in the king cab happily hanging his head out the window. She'd heard enough from Mabel's conversation with Dallas to know that Rock had found the grave, and that both detectives and the coroner had been called. She was excited for and proud of Rock. And she was proud, indeed, of Joe, that he had pulled this off. She was licking roast beef from her whiskers when Ryan's pickup moved away and Dallas's Blazer pulled into the red zone.
Hurrying in, Dallas stopped at the desk to speak to Mabel. A moment later, down the hall, Detective Davis came in from the back parking lot, heading for the front desk.
"You want to bring Gibbs in?" Dallas asked her. "As a person of interest?" That brought Dulcie to full attention. Ray Gibbs? Why would…?
"If he's innocent," Davis was saying, "he should be eager to find out if that's Nina, to help us ID her-relieved to know what happened to her."
Oh my, Dulcie thought. Was that Nina Gibbs, in that grave?
"Maybe he can come up with the name of her dentist," Dallas said. "We'll bring him in."
"And set up a watch on their condo?" Davis said. Dallas nodded. They glanced up as Mike Flannery pulled up out front in his new van, which he'd left at Clyde's early this morning. He came in frowning, stood absently petting Dulcie.
"What?" Dallas said, watching him.
Mike frowned. "Lindsey worries me. When I let her out to get her car, when she thought we were gone, she took off like a scalded cat." He glanced at Dulcie and grinned as if he'd made a politically incorrect blunder. Dulcie had to wash her paws to hide her amusement.
"It's tax season," Dallas said, and headed down the hall. "She'll be covered up with work." He turned into the conference/coffee room, where Dulcie could hear him giving orders to one of the officers to get into civilian clothes, take a civilian car, and start a watch on Gibbs's condo. The tabby sat staring out through the glass door, watching impatiently for Joe, to tell her exactly what had happened. With everyone back from the ruins, from exhuming the body and photographing and taking evidence, Clyde and Joe should be home, and the first place Joe would head would be the station, not to miss any follow-up on the unidentified body. Eagerly Dulcie waited-she waited a long time, but Joe Grey did not appear.
JOE, HAVING DESCENDED from the roofs to Fourth Street, was crossing a busy side street, padding impatiently along in the wake of a pair of dawdling tourists to avoid being squashed by oncoming cars, when he saw Lindsey's car a block ahead, moving slowly toward the condo. Reaching the curb, he ran, brushing against a woman's bare ankles, startling a scream from her, ran dodging other legs, keeping the tan Mercedes in sight. When Lindsey pulled over, parking beneath a small oak that would shelter her car from the view above, Joe dived into the shadows of a shop door. Watching her swing out fast and hurry into an antiques shop, the tomcat smiled-she was in such a rush that she'd left the driver's door ajar. Or maybe had left it so on purpose, for a quick reentry?
She stood within the shadows of the shop looking out, watching the condo. Why would she think she'd have to move fast? She must really believe that was Nina in that grave, and that Gibbs or Ryder had killed her. That was a lot of conjecture. And even so, why was she in such a hurry?
Had she seen the spying figure, seen it slip quickly away? Had she seen Ryder or Gibbs watching them? Or was she only guessing?
Crouching behind a redwood planter near where she'd parked, Joe settled in to wait. He'd barely fixed on the condo again when Ray and Ryder came hurrying down the outside stairs, Ray carrying a duffel bag, Ryder dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, Levi's jacket, and old jogging shoes-he'd never seen her when she wasn't dressed to the teeth. Racing down into the condo's garage, they disappeared. At the same moment Lindsey left the shop, moving fast, heading for her car.
Joe moved faster. Under the cover of the planter and a pair of tourists, he reached the car before her, slipped in through the cracked-open door, was inside and over the backseat, crouching on the floor, when Lindsey swung in.
Quietly she closed the door and started the engine. Behind her, Joe took a chance and reared up-just as a dark blue Honda Accord came nosing up out of the parking garage. He dropped down again, fast. Was that the car he'd seen at the ruins? Sure looked like it, small navy blue coupe. Ray was at the wheel and Ryder beside him.
Lindsey waited for three cars to pass, putting them between herself and the Honda. Then she took off slowly, following Gibbs and Ryder through the tangle of cars that crept along the narrow streets.
From the floor of the backseat, Joe had no view of the street, only of the shingled, angled rooftops. She turned left, which would send her back toward Ocean. There she turned east, in the direction of Highway 1.
When she stopped for the light at the top of the hill, Joe, staring up through the window, could see the signal change to the green arrow. She turned left, up 1, heading north. Watching the tops of the cypress and pine trees swing by, he had no idea where this ride would take him. He was alone, at the mercy of Lindsey's judgment. And she was alone, possibly following a killer.
She did have a phone? he thought. She must have, she ran her own business, surely she carried a phone. Had she already called the station to tell them what she was doing? Would there soon be officers behind them, to take over this unprofessional surveillance before it turned into a chase?
Or would she think Dallas wouldn't pay any attention to her if she called? Would tell her not to mess in police business, to lay off and go home?
She had her windows cracked, and the smell of pine trees filled the car, soon accompanied by the salty iodine smell of the bay where Highway 1 would be near the shore. Now, on the left, he could see only sky through the windows above him, and once in a while a gull sailing over. He knew they were moving north.
Was Gibbs only heading up the coast to one of the small beach towns? Or was he running, making for a connecting freeway, for some distant destination where, if they stopped, a cat might find himself forced out of Lindsey's car for any number of reasons? Where a cat had no backup, where a cat could find himself abandoned in a strange town, alone and on his own?
29
RIDING CROUCHED on the floor of the backseat, Joe couldn't see anything but sky, and, despite the fact that this was a nearly new, upscale car, the noise and vibration on the floor were singularly unpleasant, and he was breathing gas vapors that humans apparently didn't notice. But more frustrating, he couldn't see the road signs. Couldn't see where they were headed, he only knew they were still going north.