I had a more immediate concern. “Were you able to pull prints?”
“Unfortunately not. It appears to have been wiped clean.”
“Too bad. What about from the rest of the scene?”
Rigo moved his eyes from the flat-screen to me. I had the disconcerting sensation he could see through my skull. “There is evidence of numerous individuals throughout the house.”
“Right.” Too many questions. I had to stop. But I also had to learn what I could; I had to know. “So what’s the thinking.”
“Pardon?”
“If not Sean or Nancy.” Sweat tickled my breastbone. “Robbery? Business dispute?”
“It’s early to say.”
“You can’t stop Clay,” Dani said through the intercom. “He’s got a thirst for knowledge.”
“I’m just a fan of open communication,” I said.
Rigo smiled and returned to watching the screen.
Dr. Millsap announced that she would commence dissection of the head.
“What do you want me to tell Sean?” I asked Rigo.
“Must we tell him anything?”
“I can’t leave him sitting there all day.”
“From your previous remarks I took that to be a viable option.”
“One thing he said I thought was kind of strange. I asked if he could think of anyone else who might want to hurt his father. He goes, ‘Besides me, you mean.’”
“I am making the intermastoid incision,” Dr. Millsap dictated.
She drew a scalpel across the crown of Rory Vandervelde’s head. Sunburnt scalp parted to reveal flat gray bone. Together with Dani she peeled the flesh to the hairline.
“Perhaps I will have a word with the younger Mr. Vandervelde,” Rigo said.
I led him to the next-of-kin room and knocked softly.
The room was deserted, the paper coffee cup sitting on the table.
The booth officer told us that Sean had left a few minutes ago and gotten into an Uber.
“Did he say where he was headed?” I asked her.
“He didn’t say anything.”
“Do you have his number available?” Rigo asked me.
“My phone’s upstairs but I can text it to you.”
“Thank you, Deputy.” With sudden uninvited intimacy he stepped in and squeezed my biceps. His small hand was like a snare. “You’ve been most helpful.”
Chapter 14
Amy and Charlotte had gone with Sarah and the baby to Huntington Gardens in Pasadena. I thumbed through photos of Charlotte in a bamboo grove, looking contemplative beyond her years.
I had another missed call from Billy Watts, the Berkeley detective, one from Andrea, and one from a number I didn’t recognize. I listened to the attached voicemail.
Mr. Edison, my name is James Okafor. I work with your brother. I understand you were here asking about him. Feel free to give me a ring...
I went out to the employee lot and called him from my car.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mr. Okafor. It’s Clay Edison, Luke’s brother.”
“Oh, hey.” His soft, gravelly baritone faded into the bustle of the office floor. “Hang on a sec, let me find a room.” A brushy sound as he walked. The noise dampened. “Okay.”
“Thanks for calling.”
“No problem. Sorry I missed you yesterday, I had to leave to pick up my kids. Annie Lin told me you were by. She said you can’t reach Luke.”
“He’s been AWOL since Sunday. Have you spoken to him?”
“Not recently. You mind if I ask what’s going on?”
“I don’t really know. His wife hasn’t heard from him, either.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I don’t want to alarm you, because I don’t know if this means anything.”
I’m alarmed. “Go ahead.”
“Your brother thought he was being followed.”
It was a weekday. Four, five months back. Okafor arrived at the office early. He and Luke were among the few who did. They were the Old Guys. His was the workstation to the left of Luke’s. They joked about it, like there was a designated zone for anyone over thirty.
He stopped to get coffee and ran into Luke, standing at the kitchen counter, unmoving.
“I’m like, ‘What’s up, king.’ He told me he was driving in and almost got into an accident. One block from the building, he stops at a hard yellow and the guy behind him almost rear-ends him. I could see he was shaken up. I thought because, you know, he loves that car. I’m like, ‘At least nothing happened, right?’ Then he tells me he went out to get his lunch. He was distracted on account of the near miss and forgot to bring it in with him. He steps outside and there’s the same truck that almost hit him, parked across the street.”
My scalp prickled. “A truck.”
“That’s what he said. He said it was like it was waiting for him. The driver has the window down, and Luke expects the guy to start cussing him out. But he doesn’t say anything. He just points his phone at Luke, like he’s taking a picture of him, or filming him. Luke goes and gets his lunch from the car. The whole time the guy’s following him with the camera.”
“Was he able to describe the driver?”
“Not that he said. I told him, ‘It’s probably an insurance scam, the guy’s gonna say you hit him so he can make a claim.’ Luke’s like, “Maybe, I don’t know.’ But he looked nervous.”
“What about the truck? Make and model, a plate number?”
“All he said was white. I remember, because I went out myself to see. He told me what to look for: white truck, across the street. But it was gone.”
“What about if it had a cover over the bed? Or any detail, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem.”
A chair creaked. “That’s as much as I remember.”
“Okay. First off, Mr. Okafor, thank you.”
“It’s James. My pleasure. I mean, not my pleasure. You know what I mean.”
“Do you think Luke might’ve mentioned the incident to Annie or anyone else?”
“I’ll ask her but I wouldn’t count on it. Luke... He’s not a sharer. Neither of us are.”
“There’s a security camera at the entrance. Is it possible it caught the truck?”
“... could be.”
“Could you find out? Scott knows what’s going on, tell him it’s for me. Or Evelyn Girgis. They’ll need you to tell them what dates to look at.”
“I’ll try. Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“Not right now. Thanks, James. It’s really helpful and I appreciate it. If you remember anything else please get in touch.”
“I will. Hey, I’m sorry about this. Your brother’s a good dude.”
The temperature inside the car had climbed. Every breath tasted like an ashtray tipped into my mouth. I put on the AC and unfastened the top three buttons of my shirt and slapped myself in the cheek a couple of times to wake myself up.
Andrea answered on the first ring. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“Nothing bad. I’m checking in. Any word?”
“No. I did what you said and called our friends.” Her voice was abraded, as if she had been crying nonstop since leaving my house. “No one’s seen him. I still have a couple left to ask.”
“Credit card activity?”
“There haven’t been any charges since Saturday.”
“What did he buy?”
“Fish oil. I was with him, we went together.”
“All right.” I paused. “How are you doing?”
“How do you think? I was up all night. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“I’m sorry you have to go through this. Do you need me to come over tonight and help with your shots?”
“I did them myself. I threw up. Whatever. Stick to finding Luke. What about you?”
“Me?”
“How are you feeling?”
Coming from her, the question invariably preceded a lecture.