Barbara spoke up. “Lieutenant, my husband and I talked it over last night, and it comes down to this. We trust Ben, and he has the power of the L.A. Times behind him. He might be able to do more for us than we can do alone.”

Jackson exhaled his exasperation but seemed to concede the point. He said to me, “Anything out of my mouth has to be okayed by me before you run with it, understand?”

I said I did.

Jackson 's office took up a corner at the back of the building, had one window and a noisy air conditioner; numbers were written on the blue plasterboard walls near the phone.

Jackson indicated chairs for the McDanielses, and I leaned against the doorframe as he flapped open a notepad, took down basic information.

Then he got down to business, working, I thought, off a notion that Kim was a party girl, questioning her late-night habits and asking about men in her life and drug use.

Barbara told Jackson that Kim was a straight-A student. That she had sponsored a Christian Children's Fund baby in Ecuador. That she was responsible to a fault and the fact that she hadn't returned their call was way out of character.

Jackson listened with a mostly bored look on his face before saying, “Yeah, I'm sure she's an angel. I'm waiting for the day someone comes in, says their kid is a meth head or a slut.”

Levon sprang to his feet, and Jackson stood up a beat after that, but by then Levon had the advantage. He shoved his palms into Jackson 's beefy shoulders, sending him backward into the wall, which shook with a loud crack. Plaques and photos crashed to the floor, which is what you'd expect when 180 pounds or so was used as a wrecking ball.

Jackson was the bigger and younger man, but Levon was mainlining adrenaline. Without pause, he reached down and grabbed Jackson up by his lapels and threw him against the wall again. There was another terrible crashing sound as Jackson 's head bounced off the plasterboard. I watched him grab for the arm of his chair, which toppled, and sent him down a third time.

It was an ugly scene even before Levon crowned the moment.

He stared down at Jackson, and said, “Damn, that felt good. You son of a bitch.”

A heavyset female officer barreled toward the doorway as I stood there like a stump, trying to absorb that Levon had assaulted a cop, shoved him, thrown him down, cursed at him, and said it felt good.

Now Jackson was on his feet, and Levon was still panting. The woman cop yelled, “Hey, what's going on?”

Jackson said, “We're fine here, Millie. Lost my balance. Gonna need a new chair.” And he waved her off. Then he turned back to Levon, who was shouting at him, “Don't you get it? I told you last night. We got a fricking phone call in Michigan. The man said he took my daughter, and you're trying to say Kim's a tramp?”

Jackson straightened his jacket, his tie, righted his chair. His face was red and he was scowling. He jerked the chair around, then shouted back at Levon, “You're crazy, McDaniels.

You realize what you just did, you stupid fuck? You want to be locked up? Do you? You think you're a tough guy? You want to find out just how tough I am? I could arrest your ass and have you put away for this, don't you know that?”

“Yeah, throw me in jail, damn you. Do that, because I want to tell the world how you treated us. What a yahoo you are.”

“Levon, Levon,” Barbara was up, begging her husband, pulling at his arm. “Stop, Levon. Control yourself. Apologize to the lieutenant, please.”

Jackson sat down, rolled his chair up to his desk, said, “McDaniels, don't ever put a hand on me again. Due to the fact that you're out of your fucking mind, I'll minimize what just happened in my report. Now sit down before I change my mind and arrest you.”

Levon was still blowing hard, but Jackson gestured to the chairs, and Levon and Barbara sat down.

Jackson touched the back of his head, rubbed his elbow, then said, “Half the time, a kid goes missing, one of the parents knows what happened. Sometimes both of them. I had to see where you were coming from.”

Levon and Barbara stared. And we all got it. Jackson had provoked them to see how they'd react.

It had been a test. They'd passed. In a manner of speaking.

“We've been investigating this case since yesterday morning. Like I told you when I called,” Jackson said, glaring at Levon. “We've met with the Sporting Life people, also the desk and bar staff at the Princess. So far, we got nothing from that.”

Jackson opened his desk drawer, took out a cell phone, one of those thin, half-human devices that takes pictures, sends mail, and tells you when you're low on oil.

“This is Kim's phone,” Jackson said. “We found it on the beach behind the Princess. We've dumped the data and found a number of phone calls to Kim from a man named Doug Cahill.”

“Cahill?” Levon said. “Doug Cahill used to date Kim. He lives in Chicago.”

Jackson shook his head. “He was calling Kim from Maui . Called her every hour until her mailbox filled up and stopped taking incoming calls.”

“You're saying Doug is here?” Barbara asked. “He's in Maui now?”

“We located Cahill in Makena, worked on him for two hours last night before he lawyered up. He said he hadn't seen Kim. That she wouldn't talk to him. And we couldn't hold him, because we have nothing on him,” Jackson said, putting Kim's cell phone back in the drawer.

“McDaniels, here's what we've got. You got a phone call saying Kim was in bad hands. And we have Kim's cell phone. We don't even know if a crime has been committed. If Cahill gets on a plane, there's nothing we can do to stop him from leaving.”

I saw Barbara start, shock coming over her face again.

“Doug's not your guy,” Levon said.

Jackson 's eyebrows shot up. “Why do you say that?”

“I know Doug's voice. The man who called us wasn't Doug.”

We were back in the black sedan. This time I was in front, beside the driver. Marco adjusted his rearview mirror, and we exchanged nods, but there was nothing to say. It was all going on in the backseat between Barbara and Levon.

Levon was explaining to his wife, “Barb. I didn't tell you what that bastard said verbatim because there was nothing to be gained from it. I'm sorry.”

“I'm your wife. You had no right to hold back what he said.”

“ 'She's fallen into bad hands,' okay? That's the only thing I didn't tell you, and I still wouldn't tell you, but I had to tell Jackson. I tried to spare you, sweetheart, I wanted to spare you.”

Barb cried, “Spare me? You lied to me, Levon. You lied.” And then Levon was crying too, and I realized that this was what had been binding Levon up, why he'd been so glassy-eyed and removed. A man had said that he was going to hurt his daughter and Levon hadn't told his wife. And now he couldn't pretend anymore that it wasn't true.

I wanted to give them some privacy, so I lowered the window, stared out at the beachfront whizzing by, at the families picnicking by the ocean, as Kim's parents suffered terribly. The contrast between the campers and the weeping couple behind me was excruciating.

I made a note, then swiveled in my seat and, trying for something comforting, I said to Levon, “ Jackson isn't subtle, but he's on the case. He might be a pretty good cop.”

Kim's father leveled hard eyes on me.

“I think you're right about Jackson. He nailed you in five seconds. Look at you. You parasite. Writing your story. Selling newspapers on our pain.”

I felt the accusation like a gut punch – but there was some truth in it, I guess. I swallowed the hurt and found my compassion for Levon.

I said, “You've got a point, Levon. But even if I'm exactly what you say, Kim's story could get out of control and eat you alive.