"Yes, sir."

"You think that's crazy?" Hammond shrugged on his jacket. "It may be. But let me ask you this. Why did Gray leave Cameron alive? He's a stone killer, but he leaves her breathing. Why?"

Lewinsky flexed his brow, a sign of deep thought. "Because she's in on it?" he ventured. "Like, his secret lover or something?"

"Jesus, no. What do you think this is, a movie of the week? Maybe he left her alive because he wanted her to report that he'd taken her car. He wanted us chasing that Saab."

"You think so?"

Hammond sighed, strapping on his equipment belt. "Of course not. The guy is a mope. He can't think that far ahead."

Lewinsky was thoroughly confused. "Then amp; why search Cameron's building?"

"Once again, it's called covering our asses, Carl. Come on, this isn't graduate school. It's the goddamned basics." Hammond holstered his Beretta and secured his side-handle baton. "Who's at the crime scene, anyway?"

"Two or three Rampart units. Watch commander just got there. Oh, and Wolper."

"Wolper?" Hammond glanced up. "Why? It's not even his area."

"I'm not clear on that, sir."

"Hell. I've never liked that son of a bitch. You know he started off as a probationer in South-Central? I was his training officer."

"I know, sir."

"He was all right on the street, but he was always making trouble with admin. Late with his paperwork, sloppy with his logs. Didn't seem to grasp the importance of the managerial side."

"Or the political side," Lewinsky ventured.

"That, too. The man has a tin ear for politics. He's too damn sure of himselfthat's the problem. He doesn't think he can learn from anyone else."

"Including his TO?"

"I may have taught him a few things."

"I'm sure you did, sir." Lewinsky cleared his throat. "Forgive me for asking an obvious question."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you, Carl."

"Yes, well, I was just wondering amp; We've got Rampart searching the office building even though we know Gray's not there. And Culver watching his old digs even though we know he won't go there. And everybody's looking for the Saab, even though he's probably ditched it."

"Right."

"So we're covered. I get it. But the thing is, how do we actually, you know, find him?"

"We wait for him to fuck up." Hammond inspected himself in the mirror. "He will. He's a loser. Losers lose. It's all they know how to do."

"Yes, sir," Lewinsky said, not sounding entirely convinced.

Hammond was about to give him a lecture on the virtues of positive thinking when the door opened and Banner, the traffic cop turned publicist, walked in. "New development," he said. "It looks like Gray's got Cameron's daughter. Snatched her out of their condo in Brentwood."

Hammond blew out a long, slow breath.

"They're sure it's him?" Lewinsky asked.

Banner shrugged. "Who else could it be? He got the address off Cameron's DL."

"Shit," Lewinsky said.

Hammond found this observation less than astute, but he didn't pause to comment on it. "I want the condo crime scene routed straight to RHD. We don't need West LA dicks fucking around over there." He looked at Banner. "Gray takes them into the desert, right?"

"That's the MO."

"We need Sheriff's to set up roadblocks on desert roads. Need choppers in the air over the Mojave. If he snatched her this fast, he may not have had time to switch cars, so they need to look for the Saab."

"Guess we don't need the search of the office building after all," Lewinsky said.

"Wrong. Gray could still be using an accomplice. He wasn't actually seen grabbing the girl, was he?"

"No wits so far," Banner said.

"Then we make no assumptions. We cover every angle. I'll make the calls while we're on the road. Let's go."

"Where?"

"Cameron's office. The initial crime scene." He glanced at Banner. "Media on top of this yet?"

"We're still in denial mode."

"That's fineofficially. Unofficially, I wouldn't be unhappy if Channel Four shows up at the Rampart site."

"Another exclusive for Susy Chen?"

"Why not? She always gives us good press."

Lewinsky objected. "I think Rampart's been keeping the location secret. Cameron's still there. They don't want her facing a media circus when she leaves."

"Fuck her. She can handle a few cameras in her face. Crying mother in distressthat's good footage. Am I right, Phil?"

Banner nodded uneasily. "Sure thing, Chief."

"Call Chen. If she goes there, the rest of the news vultures will follow. I want coverage."

"Chief," Lewinsky said, "I hope you're balling that woman. Otherwise she's getting a lot of help for free."

"I'm a married man," Hammond snapped, noting distantly that he'd neglected to say happily married. "Just call her. We need cameras."

"We'll get 'em," Banner promised.

"Good. Let's move." Hammond straightened his collar. "Nothing's worse than being all dressed up with nowhere to go."

Wolper sat with Robin Cameron while reports came in from West LA. Unit 8-Adam-43 had been joined by a secondary unit, A-41. The condo had been secured as a crime scene. Neighbors were being interviewed.

At some point, the Rampart patrol sergeant who'd arrived at the office informed Wolper that Deputy Chief Hammond was taking command of the investigation. Wolper greeted this news with raised eyebrows. He and the sergeant both knew it was unusual for an administratora pogueto get directly involved in a high-profile, high-risk case. "He must have his reasons," the sergeant said.

Wolper nodded. "That he must."

It was after five o'clock when Hammond made his appearance. He strode into the waiting room, surrounded by Rampart Division patrol officers and his own entourage of driver, adjutant, and press-relations flack. The flack was actually a traffic officer who had been reassigned to Hammond's office by some bureaucratic ruse that Wolper didn't comprehend. The D-chief was a one-man media event. Every time he announced some piddling change of policy or addressed a meeting of the Kiwanis club, the local media knew about it.

Wolper stepped into the room with an extended hand. "Chief."

Hammond ignored the hand. He eyed Wolper's civilian clothes. "Out of uniform, Lieutenant?"

"Off duty, sir."

"And a few miles outside Newton Area," Hammond observed. "Any particular reason you should be here?"

"I know the victim."

"Personal friend?"

"Personal acquaintance."

"She's unhurt, I take it."

"So she tells me."

"You have doubts?"

"I think she got bonked on the head a little harder than she's letting on."

"Then she should be in a hospital. We can't have this woman keeling over when she's in our care. That's not the kind of thing that looks good."

Hammond knew all about looking good, as did the PR flack, who was nodding vigorously.

"I don't think she's in any danger of keeling over," Wolper said. "Anyway, we have bigger issues to deal with. You've heard about her daughter?"

"I've heard, but I don't understand how the hell it happened. As soon as Gray's escape from custody was reported, there should have been a squad car at Cameron's home address."

"She called her daughter immediately and told her to leave the premises."

"Apparently that wasn't good enough," Hammond's adjutant, Lewinsky, put in with a shit-eating smile.

Wolper knew and heartily disliked Lewinsky, a drone whose sycophantic personality and regrettably topical name had given rise to a variety of suck-up jokes. He said nothing.

Hammond shook his head. "What a goddamned mess. How did Gray even know about the girl?"

"As I understand it," Wolper said, "he met her once."

"Met her? What is this woman running, a tea party for felons?"