Pike went in first, stepping into a gloomy office suite that had long since been stripped of furniture, equipment, and everything else of value. A heavy layer of dust and rat droppings covered the floor, and the air was sharp with the smell of urine. Pike snapped on his flashlight and saw a confusion of fresh footprints pressed into the dust.

Pike moved deeper into the room so Elvis and Larkin could follow, then squatted to examine the footprints.

Larkin said, “Ugh. It stinks in here.”

Cole snapped on his light and walked it over the prints.

“What do you think?”

Pike stood.

“Three people. A week or so ago. Maybe ten days.”

Pike traced his light along a trail of footprints to the corner of the room where a large stain mottled the floor.

Larkin said, “What’s that?”

“One of our friends took a leak.”

“Oh, that is so gross.”

The footprints came from a second room beyond the first.

Pike said, “Back here.”

Like the first room, this second room was empty, but a door and a window were set into the wall so the manager could keep an eye on things in the warehouse. An enormous empty space lay beyond the glass, murky with a dim glow from skylights cut into the roof. Pike shined his flashlight through the glass, but the empty darkness swallowed the beam. His view of the room was limited, but he saw more footprints beyond the glass.

Cole and the girl came up on either side of him.

Pike said, “They came here the one time. They looked around and haven’t been back.”

The girl cupped her eyes to the glass.

“What were they looking for? Why would this place have anything to do with me?”

Cole went to the door.

“That’s what we want to find out. Tell me if you find a clue, okay?”

When Cole opened the door, a fresh spike of ammonia burned at Pike’s nose, but a stronger smell was behind it; something earthy and organic.

Larkin covered her mouth.

“Ugh.”

Pike followed Cole into the warehouse, with the girl coming out behind him. Their footsteps echoed loudly, and their lights swung through the murk like sabers.

The girl saw it first.

She said, “Ohmigod! That’s the car!”

Pike and Cole saw it together after that. A silver Mercedes sedan was parked near the loading dock off the little parking lot, alone and obvious in the empty warehouse. The fender behind the left rear wheel was crumpled and bent.

Larkin said, “This is the car I hit. This is the Mercedes.”

The girl walked over as if none of this were strange or frightening or not a part of her everyday life.

Pike said, “Larkin.”

“This is the car!”

She walked directly to the car, looked inside, then clutched her belly and heaved.

Cole caught up to her and turned her away as Pike shined his light through the glass. A dead man in the front passenger seat was slumped across the center console. A dead woman was curled on her side in the backseat. Both were naked, with their ankles and knees and wrists bound by cord. Their bodies were discolored and swollen so badly their bindings had split the flesh. Each had been shot in the back of the head. Pike figured they were the Kings, but he had never seen the Kings. He turned back to the girl.

Pike said, “I think it’s the Kings, but I don’t know. Can you see?”

Larkin was breathing through her mouth. Her face had gone grey, but she came closer.

“It just surprised me, that’s all.”

Pike stood between her and the car.

“Don’t look in the back. Just look at the man in the front seat.”

Pike shined his light. The girl leaned past him enough to peer into the car, then turned away.

“That’s him. That’s George King. Ohmigod.”

Pike glanced at Cole, and Cole nodded.

Pike said, “Go with Elvis. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“No. I can stay.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

Her face hardened, and Pike liked how she was pulling herself together.

“I can stay. I’m all right.”

Pike turned back to the Mercedes and shined the light in again. The keys were still in the ignition, which meant the car wouldn’t be locked. Pike looked back at the girl.

“Cover your mouth and nose. With a handkerchief. If you don’t have a handkerchief, use your shirt.”

She looked confused.

“What?”

“The smell. Cover your mouth and nose.”

She pulled up her shirt and pressed it hard with both hands over her mouth and nose, but now she backed away. Cole backed away, too.

Pike opened the driver’s-side door. The gases from the bodies had been building for more than a week. The smell rolled over him with the rotten-egg stink of a body dissolving itself. Pike had smelled these things before, in Africa and Southeast Asia and other places; corpses left for days in buildings or along the sides of roads or in shallow open graves. Nothing smelled worse than the death of another human being. Not horses or cattle or rotten whales washed onto a beach. Human death was the smell of what hid in the future, waiting for you.

Behind him, the girl said, “Holy Christ!”

Pike took the keys from the ignition, then checked the man’s body. George King had been shot behind the right ear. The bullet exited his left temple, taking a piece of his head the size of a lime with it. If he had been wearing a watch or rings or any other jewelry, those items had been taken. Pike found no other wounds. The lack of blood spatter and tissue fragments in the car suggested he had been shot outside the vehicle, then placed within it.

Pike checked the floorboard under the steering wheel, the area beneath the seat, and the sun visor. A California Vehicle Registration slip and a card offering proof of insurance were clipped to the visor, issued in the name of George King. Pike moved to the backseat.

The woman was in worse shape than the man. She had also been shot in the back of the head, but she had been shot twice, as if the first bullet hadn’t killed her. Most of her right eye and cheek were missing, as was her jewelry. She was curled on her right side, but her left arm and hip were mottled deep purple where her blood had settled. This also suggested they had been killed at a location other than the warehouse, then transported here, giving time for the lividity to form.

Pike checked the floorboards and the seat beneath her body, but found nothing. He backed out of the car, opened the trunk, and found a layer of blood-soaked newspapers. This confirmed the story. They had been executed elsewhere, loaded into the trunk, then driven to the warehouse in their own car.

Pike put the keys back into the ignition, closed the car, then joined Cole and the girl. They were standing by the loading dock door, as far from the car as they could get. Pike was halfway to them before he took a deep breath. The smell was so bad his eyes were burning.

Cole pointed his light at the ceiling, then along the tire tracks on the dusty floor.

“They came through the skylight, opened the door from the inside, and drove right up the ramp.”

The girl said, “I think I’m going to throw up again.”

“Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

Outside, they stripped off the latex gloves and breathed deep to flush out the smell, Cole coughing to get out the taste, then the girl coughing, too. Pike squinted at her through the brighter light, feeling angry for her because all of it was worse than either of them had known. She saw him watching.

“I’m okay now. It was the smell.”

Cole said, “When Pitman and Blanchette first approached you, they came to your house?”

“Yeah.”

She coughed again, still making a face from the smell.

“When you met them downtown, where did you meet?”

“The Roybal Building. That’s where they have federal offices.”

“Was it just Pitman and Blanchette, or were other agents present?”

“What difference does it make?”