It wasn’t quite twilight, but the fog was rolling in again, settling over the walkways that bisected lush gardens and lawns.
As he thought about his wife, he kicked himself to hell and back again for being such a fool, for wearing blinders about Jennifer, for not realizing what he had in his marriage to the one woman he truly loved and trusted.
“Idiot,” he muttered as he made his way to Sydney Hall, a two-story concrete building that had all the style and grace of a county jail. Exterior stairs led to the second floor and the doors on the ground level opened outward to wide porches. In a quick check of the building, Bentz noticed that there were no interior hallways. Fernando, registered for “Writing the Play,” an English class located on the first level, would have to pass this way if he wanted to get to class.
Finishing the remains of his soda, noticing bugs already gathering near the globe lights at the doors, Bentz waited near the stairs while the students trickled into room 134. There was a chance Fernando wouldn’t show. No doubt Yolanda had warned him about Bentz. And the fact that he was MIA from his job and earlier class indicated he was wary.
Hell, he could be in Tijuana or deeper into Mexico by now. The border wasn’t that far south.
Still, Fernando was a U.S. citizen, born and raised in L.A. Bentz was betting that sooner or later, the kid would surface.
And when he did, Bentz intended to nail him.
Maybe tonight.
Maybe later.
But Bentz wasn’t about to back down.
He only hoped that he’d get lucky. No way could he spend an other night in his motel room waiting for the damned phone to ring, staring at that bone-chilling picture of Olivia. And the thought of Olivia spending another night as someone’s captive…he just couldn’t let his thoughts go there.
Bentz leaned on the wall near the stairs and watched as the door to the classroom opened and closed, slamming behind each group of would-be playwrights as they hurried inside.
The purple haze of dusk deepened into night.
No Fernando.
Come on, you bastard. Show the hell up.
But the noise of footsteps and conversation faded as the stream of students dribbled to nothing. Bentz checked his watch. Ten after seven. No one had entered the room for over five minutes.
It appeared that Fernando was a no-show. Again.
“Damn it.” Bentz drained the dregs from his bottle, watched a moth beat itself against the globe light and was about to toss his empty sixteen-ouncer into the trash when he spotted someone running through the mist. A man, he thought. The guy hurried past the gym and cut across a wide expanse of grass.
Bentz froze. Squinted into the night.
As the runner drew closer, Bentz recognized Fernando Valdez. The little prick was actually showing up.
Gotcha, Bentz thought, his pulse elevating. Finally. A break! Every muscle tense, his gaze glued on the kid, Bentz slid silently to a place beneath the stairs. Peering through the steps he fought to hold himself in check. He had to wait until the kid was close enough to nail. He couldn’t risk scaring the little creep off.
Fernando was breathing hard, running as if the devil himself were chasing him, sweating as if he’d been running for a while.
He was close now.
Just a little bit further.
Fingering his badge, Bentz waited for just the right moment.
Fernando reached the staircase.
Now!
Bentz sprang from under the steps. Holding up his badge, he blocking the kid’s path. “Fernando Valdez? Freeze. Police!”
“Shit!” Fernando started to turn, but Bentz was ready and grabbed him by the forearm. Hard enough to make Fernando cry out. “Ouch! Hey! Let go of me!”
“I wouldn’t resist, if I were you,” Bentz warned him, his leg acting up. Not now! His knee couldn’t give out now. “You’ve got no priors, a clean record. You might even have a future if you cooperate now and give up your girlfriend.”
“What? You’re crazy! Let go of me!” Fernando yanked hard on his arm, but Bentz held on tight.
“Look, you’re going to tell me who, what, when, and where, everything you know about this freaky scam involving the Impala and the woman who is pretending to be my ex-wife. Who’s behind it. Where the hell the girl who’s pretending to be Jennifer is and most importantly where my wife is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
“Give it up, Valdez, it’s over.”
Recognition finally registered in the kid’s eyes.
“I mean it.”
“You?” he said, his lips curling in revulsion as he finally put two and two together, putting Bentz’s face to his name. “I should trust you? The pig who killed my brother?”
“You’d better, or I’ll haul your ass into jail so fast your head’ll spin.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Fine. We’ll do this at the station.” Bentz started marching him to the parking lot, figuring he could get some assistance from the guard in the booth there.
As they moved away from Sydney Hall the kid tried to worm away, pulling with such force that Bentz had to will his leg not to buckle as he yanked back.
“Look, don’t think you’re going to get out of this,” Bentz growled. “I’m not messing around.”
“Leave me alone, you prick!”
“Can’t do it.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” The boy’s face was set. Hard. Dusk shadowed the sharp angles of his jaw.
“I already told you, just the truth.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right.” With his free hand, Bentz pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial button for Hayes. It rang. Once. Twice. “Come on, come on!” Three times. “Hell.”
For once the detective picked up. “Hayes.”
“It’s Bentz. I’ve got Fernando Valdez.” They were still marching toward the gym. A few passing students eyed them curiously, but no one stopped to ask what was up.
“What?” Hayes asked. “You found him?”
“At Whitaker College.” He glanced at Fernando. “Seems he didn’t want to miss his seven o’clock.”
Fernando gave a tug and Bentz reciprocated, his fingers digging deep into muscles and tendons.
“Shit, man!” the kid whispered, but he quit trying to break free.
“I’m already on my way,” Hayes said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Fifteen, tops.”
“Just get here,” Bentz said. “I’m armed, but I don’t want to have to hurt him.”
Bentz felt the younger man tense, heard him swear under his breath in Spanish. The kid was finally scared, too.
“Meet us at the west parking lot,” Bentz said. “Near the guard booth.”
“Got it.”
Bentz ended the call. As he tucked his phone back onto his belt, the kid tried once more to break away, and Bentz felt the strain on his sore leg. He growled, wincing. Strain caused beads of sweat to form on his brow.
“I didn’t break any laws,” Valdez insisted. The curl of his lip suggested he was glad to cause Bentz some pain.
“I can’t help you until you help me,” Bentz said. “If you’ve got a brain in your head, you’ll start talking about the girl you loaned your car to. The one you set up to pretend to be my wife.”
“You’re crazy. Loco. I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about!” Fernando insisted, but there was a hint of fear in his dark eyes, a second of hesitation, as if he, too, felt the night and justice closing in.
“It’ll go a whole lot easier if you give it up before you’re arrested.”
“Arrested? Are you out of your mind?”
“You tell me.” They reached the edge of the parking lot. From here he couldn’t see the campus security guard who had been patrolling the area on foot earlier. Where are they when you need them? Bentz wondered, scanning the parking lot as he warned Fernando, “You’ve got about three minutes to talk before Detective Hayes shows up,” Bentz said, wishing he could squeeze the words out of this kid. The truth…the answers…the location where he’d find Olivia. “If I were you, I’d want to go on record as being cooperative. Right now the LAPD wants you behind bars.”