Gated Prey (Eve Ronin #3)(11)

Of course he did, she thought, because that might reduce the heat from the media, and the public, over the deaths at the house, the car chase, and the shooting at the supermarket before any outrage over the violent outcome came to a boil.

But she didn’t think the case had ended with the deaths of Manny, Moe, and Jack. There were still too many unanswered questions.

He tossed her a set of keys. “Take my Explorer and pick up Duncan. You can go back to work once Officer-Involved is finished with you. I’ll get a ride back with a deputy.”

Eve nodded and started toward his car when he spoke up again.

“Oh, and Ronin? Bring back the vehicle in one piece.”



There were news helicopters circling high above Vista Grande and Eve even spotted a couple of drones buzzing like flies overhead as she drove up to the sting house. She wondered if the drones were from the media or curious homeowners.

Crime scene tape was stretched around the house and vehicles from CSU and the county medical examiner’s office were parked in the motor court. She parked at the curb and strode to the house. As she approached, she could see through the open front door out to the backyard, where white tents had been erected over the dead bodies to hide them from the media overhead. CSU techs were everywhere, taking photos.

Duncan met her in the entry hall. The blood had been cleaned off his face and his cut pinched closed by several butterfly bandages. The wound didn’t look like “just a scratch” to her, but she kept her opinion to herself.

“You get anything off the shooters?” she asked.

“Just their IDs, car keys, and burner phones. Both are white males in their twenties who live in the valley.”

“Same with the gunman at the supermarket,” she said.

He told her that the name of the guy she’d dubbed Manny was Joel Dalander, who resided in Reseda, and that Moe was Greg Nagy, who lived in Santa Monica. “I sent deputies to look for their cars.”

“Likewise,” she said, and told him the name of the third man, the guy she thought of as Jack, was Paul Colter. “These guys weren’t what I was expecting.”

“You thought they were going to be gang members, probably Hispanic, didn’t you?”

“Most of the time they are.”

“Walking into a case with preconceived notions is the biggest mistake you can make. You have to approach each investigation as if it’s the first one you’ve ever done, which should be especially easy for you.”

“Because I have so little experience.”

“There’s always a silver lining.”

“Hard to see it in this situation.”

“It’s right there.” Duncan gestured to the backyard. “They’re dead, we’re alive.”

“Speaking of which,” she said, “Officer-Involved is waiting for us at the station.”

“I don’t see the point. They can just make some popcorn and watch the movies. I’d like to see what happened upstairs myself.”

She started walking back to the door. “It’s not very exciting.”

“I want to see the expression on your face when the guy bolted.” Duncan stumbled and Eve caught him by the forearm.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been sitting a long time and my blood sugar is low.”

They started walking, but she kept her hand on his arm to steady him and he didn’t shrug it off.

“You ate two hours ago,” she said.

“Exactly, I’m starving. Let’s swing through McDonald’s on our way back.” He stopped when he saw the Explorer, a look of disappointment on his face. “Where’s the Rolls?”

“Trashed.”

“How many cars have you destroyed in the last four months?”

The tally depended on whether she counted her Subaru Outback, which deputies had spray-painted with the words TRAITOR BITCH and stuffed with bags of dog shit a few weeks ago, though she couldn’t prove that they were the culprits.

“I haven’t kept track,” she said.

“That says it all.”

They got into the Explorer and Eve drove them away. As she passed a patrol car parked at the gate, she asked Duncan a question that had been nagging at her for the last hour or so.

“When did backup finally arrive?”

“Too late to be considered backup.”

“I’m sorry,” Eve said, turning left and heading north on Parkway Calabasas toward Calabasas Road and the freeway.

“It’s not your fault the deputy assigned to surveillance fucked us.”

“Yes, it is. I’m the one who is loathed by most of the department. It’s me they want to hurt. You’re collateral damage.”

“I’m your partner. I was an active participant in everything they hate you for.”

“You didn’t get promoted to homicide, leaping over detectives with years of experience, because you were the star of a viral YouTube video.”

“Good point,” he said. “Apology accepted.”





CHAPTER FIVE


They stopped at the McDonald’s on Las Virgenes Road, also known as Malibu Canyon, a half mile from Lost Hills’ sheriff’s station. Eve walked into the restaurant with Duncan, smelled the aroma of french fries, and realized that she was ravenous, too. Duncan ordered them each a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese combo meal, Eve paid for it since his “show-cash” was now evidence, and they settled into a booth.