Cutter went to the LAPD’s headquarters during the day and repeated his statement to Matteo and Cruz, who acted as if the previous night’s confrontation hadn’t happened.
He was heading out of the building when he felt eyes on him. Looked up to see Lisa Dade watching him from inside an open elevator. She didn’t smile, didn’t approach him; all he saw before the door closed was her inscrutable expression.
Looks like I’m a suspect. She figures that biker was me.
It wasn’t a surprise to him. They know I’m not just an idle spectator. They don’t have anything more than suspicion. No evidence.
He knew he was playing a dangerous game. What choice do I have? They haven’t made any progress in their investigations.
‘Grogan’s statement checks out. The neighbor’s security cameras had a good view of the outside of the house. They showed the thugs entering the house. He acted to protect himself.’
Matteo, the speaker, Cruz and Estrada in Lisa Dade’s office. Difiore and Quindica in side chairs, in what was fast becoming a usual configuration for their daily briefing.
‘I saw it myself,’ Dade said coldly. ‘Everything. I’m more interested in your conduct. We set high standards here. I didn’t see you stick to those at Grogan’s. I am disappointed. Diego,’ she lashed out at Cruz, ‘what were you thinking when you said that?’
‘It’s an ongoing investigation, ma’am. Everyone is a suspect. Grogan, too—’
‘Tell me you didn’t check him out. Matteo?’
‘Yes, ma’am. He’s clean. No connection to the sisters’ killings. Diego was just riling him, to see if he would say something inadvertently, implicate himself in the Sadler Avenue attack.’
‘LAPD will play by the book. We will stick to the rules. We will not resort to underhanded tactics, not under my watch. Is. That. Clear?’ she glared at them.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the officers chorused.
The harsh lines on her face softened. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked Cruz.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He let a rueful smile slip. ‘Grogan hits hard.’
‘Any idea who those hoods were?’
‘Street Front ink on the dead men, ma’am,’ Matteo responded. ‘They don’t match any of the thugs we have on file, so we haven’t been able to identify them. They had nothing in their pockets. No one’s come forward to claim the bodies. We’ve circulated all their photographs to our informants. So far, no bites.’
‘Why were they there?’
‘Our theory is that Grogan was that bike rider. Covarra connected him to the house and sent those men. However, we don’t have any proof. If they weren’t Covarra’s men, they could be just about anyone. A home invasion crew, like Grogan said.’
Dade gave no indication that she had had a conversation about the rider with Difiore and Quindica. ‘You don’t believe that?’
‘No, ma’am.’
‘I’ve read your report. That drone in Covarra’s house had no markings; serial number was filed off. Control screen crushed beyond recognition. Some of the brass at the Sadler Avenue shooting were nine mil. No connection to any guns in our system. Those drivers and cars and the bike … you’ve got zilch.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Matteo replied. ‘But we still think Grogan’s good for that attack. Nothing else makes sense.’
‘You’ve got someone following him?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘He’ll make them.’
‘My people are good, ma’am. They’ll put a tracker on his vehicle.’
‘You don’t know who you’re up against.’
‘Chief.’ Estrada straightened his legs. ‘Grogan is taking on one of the most dangerous gangs in Los Angeles. He’s alone. This will end in one of only two ways. The Street Front kills him or we arrest him.’
‘Cutter Grogan is the most dangerous man I know, and I have known several. He’ll make our officers and evade them.’
‘Which will prove that he’s got something to hide.’
‘No.’ Dade cracked a tired smile. ‘It’ll just show that he doesn’t like to be followed. And, he doesn’t. Believe me. I know him.’
‘We have some experience with him,’ Difiore said, breaking the short silence. ‘We agree with the chief. If I was Francisco Covarra and I knew about Grogan, I would be fearful.’
The BHPD detective ignored her intervention. ‘You sound as if you admire him, chief.’
‘I like him; he’s a friend. I’m sure you know that. But if he breaks the law—’
‘He has. We just need to prove it.’
‘Get evidence and bring him in. You won’t find me stopping you. But don’t lose sight of your task force. It’s not solely about Grogan.’
Cutter was in El Abajeno, a Mexican hole-in-the-wall joint in Del Rey that he had discovered several years ago.
He chewed on his vegetarian tostada and soaked in the atmosphere in the small restaurant. Yellow walls with brick arches. Brown tiles. Wooden tables with ceramic inlays. Photographs on the wall. Light music in the background, and warmth and cheer.
He closed his eyes in bliss as he swallowed and washed down the food with a sip of his juice.
When he opened them, Difiore and Quindica were in front of him.
He gaped in amazement. Blinked. Nope, they were not figments of his imagination.
‘You? Here?’ he blurted.
‘Yeah,’ Difiore said expressionlessly.
‘You missed me,’ he chortled. ‘You missed me so much you followed me from New York.’
‘We didn’t miss you,’ she snarled, grabbed a chair and plopped herself in it.
‘I know what it’s like.’ He patted her hand. ‘That empty feeling inside you when your best friend goes missing. She must have been hard to live with.’ He addressed Quindica sympathetically.
Difiore jabbed his hand with a fork. ‘You’re not my best friend.’
He grinned and winked when he caught the FBI agent hiding a smile.
‘What can I do for you, didn’t-miss-best-friend-but-followed-him-across-the-country, Detective Gina Difiore?’
‘Don’t use my first name.’
‘You gave me permission. Back in New York.’
‘That was then.’
Difiore was like that. She put on this tough, uncaring, hostile front, but inside she was soft as jelly.
‘How did you find me?’
‘We’re cops,’ she snorted.
He caught her eyeing the menu on the blackboards hung over the counter. ‘Everything is good,’ he announced. ‘I can vouch for the dishes.’
‘You’re a vegetarian. What would you know?’
‘I’ve brought friends here.’
He waved his hand to signal the server, who took their order and disappeared. He looked at them expectantly when they were alone, but neither of his visitors broke the silence.
Quindica checked out the restaurant with curious eyes while Difiore continued to gaze at him with flat eyes. Like a lizard eyeing its prey.
‘Don’t talk,’ she barked when he made to speak.
Their food arrived just then, which saved him a reply.
They ate in silence and, from their expressions, he could see it was as he had advertised.
‘That was good,’ the detective admitted grudgingly and glared at him when he fist-pumped.
‘Cutter.’ Quindica wiped her lips with a paper towel. ‘Go back to New York. Drop whatever you’re doing.’
‘I’m enjoying the company of my friends, that’s what I am doing.’
‘Don’t. Act. Innocent.’ Difiore punctuated her words with finger jabs in the air. ‘You’re that bike rider.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t see how it’s your business.’
‘We’re working with the LAPD,’ Quindica explained. ‘Similar scope and investigation to what we did with the NYPD. Rolando released Gina and assigned her to my task force.’
‘You’re investigating those killings? Matteo and Lisa didn’t mention the FBI’s involvement.’
‘No. That’s Matteo’s. You know what we look into. But we’re read into the gang investigations.’
‘You’re here officially?’
‘No.’
‘Grogan.’ there was something in Difiore’s eyes that he couldn’t place. ‘We told Matteo that the rider could be you. You’re a suspect.’
He speared a remaining piece of tostada and ate it. Looked at her with his game face in place. ‘I saw that clip on the news. That man was good, wasn’t he?’
‘Did you hear what I said? The cops think you’re good for that shooting.’
‘That’s not news to me. Matteo accused me of that last night. He’s even got cops trailing me. I lost them on the way here.’ He shook his head in disappointment. ‘I thought LAPD had better officers. I made those two easily.’
‘You’re out and about because they don’t have any proof.’
‘Are you going to be my snitch, Difiore? You’ll tell me if Matteo finds anything?’
Her eyes blazed at that. ‘Walk away,’ she said in a low voice.
‘I can’t,’ he said, deliberately misconstruing her words. 'I haven’t ordered dessert yet.’
She swore softly and got to her feet. Reached into her back pocket, drew out her wallet and flung several bills on the table. She walked out of the restaurant without another word.
Quindica lingered for a moment and eyed him speculatively. ‘You’re not going to back off.’
‘I told you, I’m going for the pastries—’
She cut him off with a hand wave, thought of saying something, changed her mind and went out.
Cutter watched them leave bleakly and wondered if he had lost them as friends.
I hope not.
He waved his hand for the server and placed his order.
There was no way he was going to miss El Abajeno’s sweet treats.
‘He won’t stop,’ Quindica said as she settled in their car and buckled up.
‘Is that what he told you?’ Difiore fired up the engine and rolled out of their parking space.
‘No, he pretended we were talking about food.’
The detective’s hands tightened on the wheel as she came to a red light and slowed to a stop.
‘He won’t back down. He won’t stand by. He’ll keep doing his thing regardless of Matteo’s investigation.’
‘Until Covarra, or whoever the killers are, are dead,’ Quindica agreed.
‘Or he is.’
Neither said a word after that until they reached headquarters.
‘Hey, Matteo,’ Difiore greeted the detective as he emerged from an office. ‘Those cops who were shadowing Grogan—’
‘They lost him.’
‘He was at El Abajeno’s half an hour ago. He might still be there if your men hustle.’
Matteo stared at her as he reached for his phone automatically. ‘How do you know?’
‘We were having our lunch there when we spotted him.’
‘What are you doing?’ Quindica hissed at her when they were alone.
‘Enjoying myself,’ said the detective, her eyes dancing. ‘We have premium seats to the Cutter Grogan show.’