“I know. Thanks. But the less you know the better.”

He started to say something, then stopped. Then he shrugged his big shoulders. “You’re the leader.”

I nodded, my thoughts already shifting to the reason for our drive. Mosaic Farvar was the one guy I felt actually had contact with Elizabeth and he hadn’t told me and Lasko anything. He was a bad, bad guy and I’d let him off easily, even when I knew he had an answer to give me.

I wasn’t going to leave without an answer this time.

I retraced the path Lasko and I had taken before. The cul-de-sac was still empty and Farvar’s house was unlit, all of the windows dark. I passed the cul-de-sac and as soon it was out of view in my rearview mirror, I pulled to the curb and parked. I checked my phone and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. I reached across Chuck, opened the glove box and pulled out my gun. It felt heavy in my hand. I checked the safety, then leaned forward and slid into the waistband at the back of my jeans.

“This is where I ask again what we’re doing,” Chuck said, eyeing the gun.

“We aren’t doing anything,” I said. “I’m going to go visit with a guy. You are going to stay here.”

“That’s it?” Chuck asked, raising his eyebrows. “I’m supposed to sit here?”

I pointed over my shoulder. “There’s a house back there in the cul-de-sac. Only one that’s got someone living in it. I’m going there. Give me 30 minutes inside. If I don’t come out, you drive back to Coronado and call a San Diego cop named Paul Lasko.”

“Joe,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not much for this Mission Impossible shit, alright? What’s going on?”

“Keep an eye on the street,” I said. “You see anyone turn into the cul-de-sac or whatever, get the hell out of here.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” he said. “We’re in the fucking desert.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He stared out the window for a minute, then shook his head. “Look. I meant what I said. I’m here to help you, Joe. Whatever that means. I’m not stupid. You don’t pick me up, drive to Brawley and pull a gun out of the glove compartment because we’re gonna go grocery shopping.” He paused. “If there’s some piece of shit out there that was involved with Elizabeth, go do what you need to do. I’m with you. Whatever happens here stays here.” He paused again. “But there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you here.”

It struck me that maybe if I hadn’t been so hardheaded and stubborn and withdrawn for so long, a friend like Chuck might’ve been able to help me find Elizabeth sooner. I hadn’t trusted anyone and that had been a mistake.

“Okay,” I said. “Just watch where I go. Thirty minutes. If I don’t come out, then come check it out. Anyone shows up, don’t let ‘em into the house.”

Chuck nodded. “Got it.”

“If you need me, you’re gonna have to come get me.” I paused. “You’re sure you’re cool with that? Because you’re right. I’m not going grocery shopping.”

“Do what you need to do,” he said. “I’m cool with it all.”

THIRTY NINE

I opened the car door and stepped out. The air was colder than I expected, dry. I shut the door and listened. It was eerily quiet. The desert was different than the city, the roar of cars and muted, the sounds of crickets and other night creatures noticeably absent. I looked in the window at Chuck and pointed in the direction I was going. He nodded and twisted in his seat to watch me.

I walked quickly on the sidewalk back to the cul-de-sac, crossed the street and came up on the side of Farvar’s house. I moved along the side, then opened a wooden gate to the back of the property, staying close to the house. The back yard was a small rectangle of dead grass and neglect. I found a window on the backside of the house and there was a small glow on the other side. I put my ear near the exterior of the house and barely made out a couple of voices and then laughter.

A television.

Someone was home.

I went back to the front, thought for a moment, then knocked on the front door. Farvar already knew me. He had no reason to keep me out. I hadn’t threatened him or done anything that would make him fear me when Lasko and I had come the first time.

I heard footsteps behind the door.

Farvar opened the door and squinted at me. He wore a pair of corduroy shorts and that was it. A tattoo of a panther stared at me from his left shoulder and he held a half empty bottle of Bud Light in his right hand.

“The fuck you doing back here, Mr. Ex-Cop?” he asked with a sneer. “I thought we did all of our talking.”

“I had one more question,” I said.

He snickered, then held the bottle to his lips. “Well, fucking ask me because I’m busy.”

I planted my back foot and drove my fist right into his gut. A fine mist of beer erupted from his mouth and he dropped the bottle, the glass shattering into large, jagged pieces. He staggered back, his hands clutching at his stomach and I shoved him with both hands. He toppled over backwards and I shut the door behind me.

I patted him down while he writhed on the floor. I pulled out a wad of cash from one of his pockets and tossed it on the floor next to him. There was nothing else on him. I glanced at the television, the only light in the otherwise darkened room. Some reality show where a guy with a beard was talking to the camera, then chuckling at his own joke.

“What the fuck?” Farvar mumbled, his knees to his chest. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck is right,” I said. “Our conversation is going to go a little differently this time. You hear me?”

“Fuck you,” Farvar snarled.

I took a step back, then swung my foot forward as hard as I could, digging my toe deep into his side. He howled and rolled to his side.

“Take note,” I said. “There is no cop here this time. Just me and you. And I’m prepared to do whatever I need to do to get what I want from you.”

He was still rocking back and forth on his side, his arms wrapped around his body.

“Have you ever taken or sold a child?” I asked.

“Man, you can…” he started to stay.

I feinted like I was going to kick his ribs again. He bucked, raising his head off the floor. I pivoted slightly and swung my foot into the side of his head. His head snapped away from me and his entire face screwed up in pain, his hands coming up to his head now.

“I’m not screwing around,” I said. “And I can do this all night. No one is coming to save you.”

He was breathing heavy, his chest heaving up and down. His left hand was clamped tightly over his left ear. He had one eye open, looking at me.

“Have you ever taken or sold a child?” I asked again.

He hesitated, then said, “Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

“About which one?” he said.

“All of them.”

He frowned, still grabbing at his ear. “Come on. How am I gonna do that?”

“You doing the taking or selling?”

“Both, dude. Both. Can I sit up?”

I nodded.

He pushed himself slowly, rubbed one more time at his ear, then leaned back on his hands.

“Both,” he said. “I’ve done both.”

I didn’t say anything.

Farvar shrugged. “Look, man. Money’s money. Somebody brings me a job, I take it. I don’t give a shit who it is. If I can do it, I do it. Gotta eat, dude.”

“Maybe try shoplifting,” I said. “You’re done with kids.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Whatever you say. And shoplifting won’t pay like kids.”

The anger was welling up inside of me. I’d been around plenty of people who had no regard for the safety and well being of children. But Farvar was proving himself to be a special kind of asshole. The kind that continued to operate without getting caught.

“Think back,” I said. “In Coronado. In San Diego. Were you involved with a girl there?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I pulled the gun from my waistband and aimed it at the middle of his face. “Think hard.”

He didn’t look frightened in any way by the gun. Instead, he laughed.