“How about I try to find Rina and Yanni? There are way too many conflicting stories here-”

Cole was still talking when they heard the outside gate, and Pike went to the door. Rina stopped when she saw him, shielding the sun from her eyes with a hand. She was wearing a black T-shirt over the same jeans, the big purse slung over one shoulder, her bag slung over the opposite shoulder.

She said, “What you find?”

“Where’s Yanni?”

She scowled at him for not answering her question, then pushed past him into the guesthouse. She glanced at Cole as she put her bag on the table.

“He work for a living. They don’t give him time off to help find stolen children.”

Cole said, “Where were you?”

She upended her bag, dumping out freshly washed clothes.

“I went to wash. My clothes, they smelled like feet.”

Pike said, “You know Emile Grebner?”

“Of course, I know. He has fucked me many times.”

She said it as matter-of-factly as if she had told them her eyes were blue or her hair black, and refolded her laundry without pausing, as if this statement had no meaning. Pike thought maybe, for her, it had none.

Cole said, “How do you know him?”

“He have the big house in the hills, and would have girls for the parties. This was before Michael, when I was first here, fifteen, sixteen years old, I think. He like only Serbian girls, not American or Russian. He trust the Serb girls, and we speak like back home. That is where Michael first see me, up there. Why you want to know?”

“So you know he’s one of Darko’s authority men-a close associate?”

“I just tell you I know him. Are you not listening?”

Pike said, “Grebner told us the baby’s father is Milos Jakovich, not Darko.”

Pike watched her carefully to read her reaction. A deep frown cut lines between her eyebrows as if she was struggling with the language problem. She glanced at Cole, who was watching her just as carefully, then turned back to Pike.

“You are making this up?”

Cole said, “We’re not making it up. Are you?”

“Fuck you. You and the dog you walked in on.”

She turned back to Pike.

“This is bullshit. I know who the father is and Michael know, too. Grebner, he lies. Why he say this? Where you see him?”

Pike said, “Grebner believes it. Darko and Jakovich are at war over some illegal arms. Rifles. Do you know anything about that?”

“Michael hate the old man, this I know, but I don’t know nothing about this other thing. Why he say Michael not father?”

“Probably because this is what Michael told him. Is Jakovich the f ather?”

“No.”

“Could he think he’s the father?”

She drew herself up and gazed at Cole as if he was the scum of the earth.

“His dick has never been in me.”

Cole turned red, but Rina looked back at Pike, and Pike thought her eyes were growing wet.

“This is what Michael is telling his men, that he is not the father?”

“Yes.”

“This makes no sense. Michael tells me he will take Petar back to Serbia, and will not take me. Michael is father, not this old man I have never seen. I am mother. Petar is mine.”

Cole frowned at Pike.

“This is making my head hurt.”

Rina ignored him.

“He say Michael say this terrible thing?”

“Yes.”

Her face folded as she thought about it, and she looked forlorn.

“I don’t know. Maybe he tell them this to hide his shame.”

Cole crossed his arms, and leaned back, his eyes growing distant and cool.

“That the boy’s mother is a whore?”

“Why else? All men are weak. You would do the same.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

“Big talk. So maybe you make me pregnant, then we’ll see how big you talk, here is the mother, she is a whore.”

Cole simply stared at her, and Rina turned back to Pike.

“Does Grebner say where is my boy?”

“No.”

“Men are so weak. Take me to him. I make him say.”

“He doesn’t know, but we might have a lead on Darko. Have you heard of Diamond Reclamations?”

Her face scrunched as she thought, but then she shook her head.

“No. This is a jewelry store?”

Pike said, “We’re going to find out.”

Rina shoved her clothes aside, and started for the door.

“Good. Let’s find out.”

Pike stopped her.

“Not you. Me.”

Rina launched into a stream of Serbian, and kept it up as they left.

Outside, Cole said, “What do you think she’s saying?”

“No idea.”

“We probably wouldn’t like it.”

“No. Probably not.”

Pike left Cole at his car, and headed for the Valley.

34

Elvis Cole

COLE THOUGHT ABOUT YANNI as he left the guesthouse.

Janic “Yanni” Pevich had come back clean. When Cole checked the plate Pike gave him from Yanni’s F-150 pickup truck, he had learned the vehicle was registered to a Janic Pevich. The leasing office at Yanni’s building confirmed the apartment was being leased to a Janic Pevich, and reported that Mr. Pevich had been an excellent tenant. Cole had then checked with a friend at LAPD’s Hollywood Station, who reported that Pevich had no criminal record. Cole had related all this to Joe Pike, and let it go, but after leaving Grebner, he had begun to have second thoughts.

They now had two divergent and different stories, which meant one of the principals was lying.

Cole worked his way up Coldwater Canyon to Studio City, and returned to Yanni’s apartment. Rina had said he was at work, but Cole didn’t know if he was working, or care. The F-150 was missing. Cole parked in the visitors’ parking lot and made his way back to Yanni’s apartment.

He knocked first, then rang the bell. When no one answered, he slipped the dead bolt and let himself inside.

He said, “Hey, Yanni, Rina’s out in the car.”

Just in case.

No one answered and no one was home.

Cole locked the door behind himself, then made a quick search of Yanni’s bedroom. The apartment was small, with only one bedroom, but it looked lived-in, and real. Cole searched through the bathroom, the dresser drawers, the bedroom closet, and under the bed. He found nothing unusual or incriminating, and nothing to suggest Yanni had lied. He also found nothing of a particularly personal nature, which he found odd-no pictures of family or friends, no souvenirs, and nothing to anchor a personal history. Ana Markovic had a yearbook and snapshots of her friends, but Yanni had nothing.

Cole returned to the living room, then went into the kitchen. The counter and sink were cluttered with unwashed dishes. Cole found a box of plastic baggies under the sink, then selected a glass tumbler, placed it in the bag, and let himself out. Yanni Pevich had no record, but maybe Yanni Pevich was someone else.

Cole phoned John Chen from his car, and explained the situation.

Chen said, “How am I going to sneak it in with everyone here?”

“You’ll think of something. I’m already on my way.”

“ You’re coming here?! Don’t come here!”

“Meet me outside.”

The trip down to SID took only fifteen minutes, and John Chen had probably been waiting out front for the entire time. When Cole pulled up, Chen was hopping from foot to foot like a kid who had to pee. He relaxed when he saw the glass.

“Hey, that’s a pretty good sample.”

The fingerprints were clearly defined on the glass.

“Yeah. You won’t have to glue it or do anything fancy. Just tape off the prints and see what you get.”

“You want an Interpol check, too?”

“Yeah, Interpol. I’ll be in my car.”

“You’re going to wait?”

“I’m going to wait. How long could it take, John? Just see what you get.”

Chen scurried away. All he would have to do is dust the glass with latent powder, lift the prints with tape, then scan them into the Live Scan system. He would have a hit, or not, in minutes.