Gated Prey (Eve Ronin #3)(16)

Also known to Lost Hills deputies as the Calabasas Corolla. The Mercedes was the perfect car for cruising the streets without being noticed. It might even get him through the resident’s lane at Vista Grande with just a nod to the guard.

Duncan asked, “Do you have his number?”

“Of course,” Estelle said, and gave Duncan the number. He stepped into an adjacent hallway to make the call, mostly for show, and on the off chance somebody else might answer.

Eve gestured to the couch in the living room. “Can we sit down?”

They went into the living room, Estelle taking a seat on the couch and Eve sitting on the edge of a chair that was kitty-corner from her.

“Do you need to talk to Paul?” Estelle asked. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

Eve held up her phone and showed her photos of Joel Dalander and Greg Nagy. “Do you know these two men?”

“No, I don’t. Who are they?”

“We think they are two of your son’s friends.”

“Oh, is that what this is about? Those men? Whoever they are?”

Duncan came in, sticking his phone in his pocket. “Went straight to voice mail.”

No surprise, Eve thought.

“He doesn’t answer his phone when he has a fare,” Estelle said. “You can try back later. Now, will you please tell me what this is about?”

Duncan said, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“It’s down the hall,” she said. “Second door on your left.”

“Thank you.” Duncan went away on what Eve knew was a pretense to snoop around and also leave her with the painful task of breaking a mother’s heart.

Eve took a deep breath and plowed ahead. “There’s no easy way to say this, Mrs. Colter. Your son was involved in an armed home invasion robbery in Calabasas today.”

Estelle blinked hard and cocked her head, confused.

“I don’t understand. Did it happen to someone Paul dropped off at home? Or do you think he unknowingly gave the burglar a ride?”

“Paul was one of the perpetrators.”

“No, no, no, you’re making a big mistake, it couldn’t possibly be Paul.” Estelle toyed with her turquoise sunburst necklace, running her fingertips over the sharp rays around the intensely blue stone. “He’s not a gang member or a criminal. Call him again in a few minutes, you’ll see.”

Eve lowered her voice, softening her tone. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this. After the home invasion, he carjacked a vehicle, drove to a grocery store, and was shot by a security guard. Your son is dead.”

Estelle shook her head repeatedly and held up her hands in a halting gesture, a smile on her face. Eve had noticed early in her job that people smiled at the strangest times, that smiles weren’t always smiles. Sometimes they were pain.

“That’s absolutely crazy,” Estelle said. “You’re not making any sense. It’s not Paul. I’m calling my husband. He’s an attorney, he’ll sort this out.”

“That’s a good idea,” Eve said.

Estelle got up, went into the kitchen, and emerged a moment later holding a cell phone. Her lower lip was beginning to tremble and Eve could see tears welling in her eyes.

“Alan? There’s a police detective here. There’s been a horrible misunderstanding. She says that Paul robbed a house in Calabasas, held up a grocery store, and was shot by—” She stopped, apparently interrupted by her husband, a bewildered expression on her face. “No, I haven’t seen the news. You know about this?”

Eve held out her hand. “May I speak to your husband?”

Estelle spoke into her phone. “The detective wants to talk with you.”

She handed the phone to Eve, who introduced herself.

“Oh God,” Alan said. “You’re the one.”

“The one?” Eve said.

“On the news. The detective in the Rolls-Royce who chased the gunman into the supermarket. You think he’s our son?” He posed the question with heavy incredulity.

“We know he is.”

“It’s . . .” He took a long moment to find the word. “Incomprehensible. On the news, they say he was shot dead.”

“Yes, he was. I’m very sorry.” Eve heard silence on the line. “You should come home. Your wife needs you.”

He seemed to choke on something, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “Yes, of course, right away. Let me talk to Estelle.”

Eve handed the phone back to Estelle, who was crying now. Duncan emerged from the hallway and Eve went over to him to give Estelle, and themselves, some space.

“It’s a three-bedroom house,” Duncan said, his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “One of the bedrooms, I assume it’s Paul’s, is locked with a dead bolt.”

“He really wanted his privacy.”

“Maybe he didn’t want his mom coming across his gun while she was cleaning his room.”

“Or it’s stuffed to the rafters with stolen goods.”

“We’ll soon find out.”

“His father’s a lawyer,” Eve said.

“A patent attorney. I looked on the web while you two were talking. He won’t fight us on the warrant.”