"Cool head," he said. "Lot of good it did her head."

"Cool but also reckless," I said. "A coke conviction didn't stop her from stealing dope at Starkweather. Flirting with danger was also behind her attraction to Crimmins. She told us she was a thrill seeker. Rock climbing, skydiving off power stations-making sure to let you know that was illegal. Think of it: telling a cop she'd committed a crime. Smiling about it. Another little game. Getting off on clanger is probably also the way she hooked up with Crimmins in the first place. Castro told us Derrick and brother Cliff were thrill chasers, liked speed. Derrick and Heidi probably met at some kind of daredevil club."

"Going for the adrenaline rush," he said. "Then it gets old, so they move on to a different kind of high."

"Crimmins's crimes have a profit motive, but I've been saying all along that thrill's the main ingredient. Crimmins's thing is creating a twisted world and controlling it. He scripts the action, casts the players, moves them around like pawns. Gets rid of them once they've finished their scenes. For a psychopath, it would be pretty damn close to heaven. Heidi had similar motivations, but she wasn't in Crimmins's league. It was a fun ride for her, but her mistake was thinking of herself as a partner when she was just another extra. She must have been confused when Crimmins pulled off the I-Five and told her to get out."

I didn't feel like laughing, but there I was, doing it.

"What?" he said.

"Just thought of something. If Crimmins had been lucky enough to really break into Hollywood, maybe none of this would've happened."

He took in the room and I followed his eyes. Cramped, dingy, nothing on the walls. For Heidi and Crimmins, interior decorating had meant something else, completely. Cruel puzzles, bloody scenes, embroidery of the mind…

"Let me sort out the escape," he said, very softly. "Double entry to Starkweather: Crimmins enters the grounds from the back, through that hole in the fence; Heidi drives right in through the front gate, like she would any other night. She waltzes right on to C Ward, heads over to Peake's room, gets him ready. All the techs are at the weekly meeting, except Dollard, who's patrolling. Heidi lures Dollard into Peake's room-no big challenge, all she has to do is tell him Peake is sick, or freaking out-assuming the Jesus pose again. Dollard goes in, locks the door behind him-basic procedure- goes over to check on Peake. Maybe Peake jumps him, maybe not. In either case, Heidi gets Dollard and cuts his throat. Or she distracts Dollard and Peake does the cutting… She makes sure the coast is clear, hustles Peake over to the staff elevator, no floor guide to tell anyone where it's going… Down to the basement, over and out."

"And Crimmins, hiding in one of the annexes, or nearby, meets up with them," I said. "Heidi and Crimmins lead Peake out the back fence. Heidi returns and leaves the hospital the way she came in, through the front, while Crimmins and Peake escape into the foothills, where they've got a vehicle waiting that can handle the terrain. Peake's not in great condition, but Crimmins is a climber, already knows the hills; it wouldn't be a problem dragging Peake along. Heidi as Dollard's cutter would also explain why the artery was only nicked, not slashed clear through. She was a strong girl without much of a conscience. But if she'd never actually cut anyone's throat before, her inexperience could've showed. It takes will to saw through someone's neck. And there's the gush factor. She would've wanted to avoid getting bloodstained, had to coordinate cutting and stepping back in time-I can see Cfimmins rehearsing her. So she wounded Dollard just deeply enough to open the jugular. Dollard collapsed, so she thought she'd finished him off. He went into shock, lay there draining. Once again, they were lucky-no one found him soon enough to save him."

"Crimmins seems to have lots of luck."

"No sin unrewarded," I said. "That's why he keeps doing bad things."

"The nick could also mean Peake did it," he said. "Atrophied muscles from all those years in the loony bin."

"Not if he chopped up Heidi's face. Those gashes took force. What do you figure, a hatchet?"

"Patel said that, or some kind of cleaver. Yeah, you're probably right… Heidi cut Dollard, and Peake cut Heidi."

"Her murdering Dollard would serve another purpose: no need to hide a weapon in Peake's room, risk discovery. Techs carry. You just proved that."

He pulled out his phone, called Ron Banks, told him about the drugs and the stolen goods, Heidi's involvement. "Yeah, looks like she was… Listen, I'm gonna snoop around her house some more, but it's West Hollywood, so you might as well get some of your guys over here to tape it off. Tell 'em I'm here, what I look like, so there's no misunderstandings… Thanks. Anything new over there?… Yeah, sometimes the job is boring…Yeah, I think I will. Chippie's still over there.… Whitworth. Michael Whitworth."

Milo started to search in earnest. The bedroom closet held blue jeans, blouses, and jackets in women's small and medium sizes, and men's black jeans, 34 waist, 35 length, black XL T-shirts, sweaters, and shirts.

"Home sweet home," he said, shining his light on the floor. Three plastic cartons full of rumpled underwear and socks sat next to a jumble of battered running shoes and several pairs of thick-soled, dirty-looking boots. In the corner were four olive-drab packages the size of seat cushions, festooned with straps. U.S. Army stencil. Next to them, scuba gear, a single set of skis, a box of amyl nitrate-poppers. Another box full of polyester hair. Four woman's wigs: long and blond; short, spiky, and blond; raven black; tomato red and curly. Three male toupees, all black, two curly, one straight. Labels inside from a theatrical makeup store on Hollywood Boulevard.

"Toys," said Milo. "When you were over at Fairway Ranch, see any good climbing spots?"

"The entire development is backed by the Tehachapi mountains. But a short walk through foothills is one thing, serious climbing's another. Crimmins would be limited by Peake's condition. Even if Peake's vegetable act's a fake, he's no Edmund Hillary. Also, if Crimmins has returned to Treadway, it's because it has psychological meaning for him. So maybe he'll stick close to home."

"What kind of psychological meaning?"

"Something to do with the massacre-maybe he's reworking it. For his movie. Rescripting-reliving-a major triumph. Back when he lived there, Treadway was essentially divided between the Ardullo and the Crimmins ranches. Wanda Hatzler told me the Mexican girl Derrick and Cliff threw out of their car ran toward the Ardullo property. On the north side. That could narrow things down."

"But which way would he go? To the Ardullo side because that's where the massacre went down, or to his daddy's place?"

"Don't know," I said. "Maybe none of the above."

"What's there now? Where the ranches were."

"Homes. Recreational facilities. A lake."

"Big homes?" he said. "Something that might remind Crimmins of the Ardullo place?"

"I didn't get that close a look. It's an upscale development. Whether or not that will trigger anything in Crimmins's head, I can't say."

"Any obvious place to hide out?"

"It's pretty open," I said. "Two golf courses, the lake. If they break into someone's home, there'll be plenty of cover. But even if Crimmins is loosening up mentally, that seems downright stupid… Maybe outside the development.

Somewhere at the base of the Tehachapis. If Derrick climbed as a kid, he could have a special hiding place."

Milo got back on the phone, called Bunker Protection. Once again, his side of the conversation was tense. "Idiot rent-a-cops. No sign of any disturbance, no disreputables have driven through tonight, yawn, yawn… Okay, let me toss the rest of this palace."