Racing the Light (Elvis Cole #19; Joe Pike #8)(68)

“I’m on this number now.”

I dropped the burner between my legs and pulled away.

Josh said, “This is bullshit. Where are you taking me?”

“To the Batcave.”

“Dude. Seriously.”

I turned into the parking entrance of the first large medical building I saw, took a ticket at the gate, and circled deeper and deeper until we reached the bottom of the parking garage. Josh realized what I was doing and grinned like a kid.

“The Batcave. Brilliant.”

Five levels of concrete and steel made a good cave. I put the SIM card in my phone, powered up, and transferred my contact list to the burner. When the burner was set, I pulled the card and we headed back to the surface. The exit gate wanted eighteen dollars to let us leave.

I said, “You owe me eighteen bucks.”

Josh was enjoying himself.

“I’ll pay you twenty if you let me drive.”

“Not a chance.”

We emerged from beneath the building and headed into the city.





49





Josh watched the sky with a hand shielding his eyes.

I said, “C’mon. It can’t be this bad.”

“It’s worse.”

He tried to slump low enough to rest his head, but he’d run out of room. The bright sky made him squint.

“I should’ve taken my sunglasses. They’re in my car.”

“Check the glove box. Might be an old pair.”

He dug through the glove box and found a pair of Wayfarers. He cleaned the lenses with his shirt, put them on, and showed me.

“The eighties. Livin’ in a river of darkness.”

I laughed.

“Looking good, Sonny.”

“I’m a man of the streets.”

He turned to see behind us, but couldn’t turn far.

“Could we put up the top?”

I pulled over, lifted the top, and latched it into place. Now he looked squished.

I said, “Better?”

“Livin’ the dream. If you’re helping, take me downtown.”

“What’s downtown?”

“Richter. I’m going to stuff his face with my mic and confront him. Cut his reaction into the show and humiliate him.”

I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“Get real. You’ll be arrested.”

“This is the show. In Your Face with Josh Shoe. I’m going to get in his face and expose him to the entire world. That’s how you beat powerful people.”

“Let’s deal with the evidence you have. An Attorney needs to review your recordings.”

“They speak for themselves. I don’t need an Attorney.”

“Who was present when you recorded Rachel?”

“Me and Rachel. What’s your point?”

“The D.A. will want to establish she wasn’t threatened or induced to say it.”

“I didn’t induce her! She wanted to go on record. It was her idea.”

“These aren’t sworn depositions taken under oath before an officer. This is a prostitute saying she’s slept with famous people. It’ll play great on your podcast, but the D.A. will need corroboration. Same for Allie. Corroboration. Did the pilots see money change hands? The ground crew?”

“This is bullshit.”

“It isn’t bullshit. What you think is evidence and actual evidence aren’t the same. I’m trying to help.”

“Okay. So help. I’m waiting.”

I thought about it. I wasn’t sure if I could help him or not.

“How specific did she get?”

“I told you. Times, dates, and places. Specific. She knew what she was doing. She wanted to get these people.”

“Why?”

Josh hesitated.

He shook his head like he didn’t quite understand, but he was telling me what he knew.

“Rachel went to one of Locke’s little parties. Meaning Richter, only it was Locke who paid her. She’d screw guys they wanted to be in business with or get favors from. That kind of thing.”

“I know how it works.”

“Richter made a deal to kill a low-cost housing project so this guy could get the property cheap and make a mint building an entertainment center. Rachel hated it. She hated them for it. They actually doomed people to live on the street.”

“Is this on the tape?”

“Yeah.”

“She names them? She gives the dates?”

“Yeah. Some resort out in the desert.”

I saw how it might work.

“If the people she names can be placed where she claims they were on the dates she says they were there, her statements will have credibility.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Corroborating testimony would help. Someone else who was present or has knowledge of it.”

He lapsed into silence.

I said, “Meredith Birch?”

“No way. She didn’t trust Meredith. She even kinda hated Meredith. Meredith made money off Locke.”

Kimberly Laird had told me the same.

“Have you met Rachel’s friend Kimmie?”

“The girl from Visalia?”