club’s layout, using her table-by-table descriptions. Very few people noticed so many details and could keep them all straight. Noah’s memory was good, especially for names and numbers, but he didn’t have the same facility as April.
He’d never met anyone like her.
Although she was beautiful and obviously intelligent, there was another, softer quality that drew him in: compassion. She seemed distressed about what happened to Lola and protective of the other girls.
“You won’t last two weeks on homicide if you let every honey who bats her eyelashes off the hook,” Patrick said, maneuvering into light traffic. At midnight, the only gridlock was on the Mexico side of the Tijuana border. “Women know how to exploit a man’s weaknesses. An officer with a soft spot for the ladies can be a liability.”
“Or an asset,” Noah said, digging into his pocket.
“What’s that?”
He opened the folded note and scanned its contents. “Just something one of those wicked harlots slipped me. I feel so exploited.”
Patrick’s gaze sharpened. “A tip?”
Noah read the note aloud:
Tony Castillo
gray stucco w/ dark-blue shutters
large cactus out front
400? Fairfax
“If I’m not mistaken, April Ortiz gave us the name and location of Lola Sanchez’s gang connection.”
Patrick glanced in his rearview mirror, making sure the road was clear before executing a quick U-turn and heading back toward Fairfax Avenue. “What was I saying about female interviewees?”
“A bunch of bullshit,” Noah said, smiling.
Patrick smiled back at him. “Okay, smart-ass. I’ll give you this one.”
Noah logged on to his computer, entering Tony Castillo’s name in the system. He had two priors, both for drug possession. The mug shot featured a sleepy-eyed Hispanic man with a tattooed neck and shaved head.
“There’s a warrant out for his arrest,” Noah said. “Failure to appear.”
Patrick grunted his approval. “Last known address?”
“City Heights.” He did a quick search of residents on Fairfax. “Arturo Castillo is listed as the owner of a rental property in that area. Number 413.”
Patrick touched the receiver at his shoulder, calling it in.
“Proceed with caution,” Detective Santiago said. He sounded pleased.
Noah’s pulse began to pound with excitement. In a homicide investigation, the first twenty-four hours were critical. A lead like this could provide the break they needed. And Santiago was letting them follow it.
A thought occurred to him. “Did you tell him I’m applying to his division?”
“I didn’t offer the information,” Patrick hedged.
“He asked?”
“Yes. Said he heard you had promise.”
Noah’s face warmed with a pleasant sort of discomfort. It was the same way he’d felt when April Ortiz came out to say goodbye. For a second he’d thought she was interested in him as a man, not as an officer. Then he’d read her expression, which held no hint of sexual suggestion, and understood her intention.
“You think the club manager’s got something to hide?” Patrick asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he replied. Didn’t everyone?
Number 413 Fairfax was just as April described it. A giant prickly pear cactus lined the sidewalk, partially obscuring the front of the house. Mexican women used the tender new shoots to make nopales, and this one had been picked clean, leaving only the largest, thickest ears. It was as tall and wide as their squad car, a hulking beast with a dozen arms. Streetlights cast its creeping shadow across the barren front yard.
At midnight, most of the neighborhood was dark. There were a few hot spots at the end of the block, with groups of young men and clusters of parked cars. Fairfax was a poor area, known for drug sales and gang activity, but it was also home to honest, hardworking people. Nice families struggling to make a better life.
Noah wished dirtbags like Castillo would stay in designated areas, where kids wouldn’t get caught in the
He’d never met anyone like her.
Although she was beautiful and obviously intelligent, there was another, softer quality that drew him in: compassion. She seemed distressed about what happened to Lola and protective of the other girls.
“You won’t last two weeks on homicide if you let every honey who bats her eyelashes off the hook,” Patrick said, maneuvering into light traffic. At midnight, the only gridlock was on the Mexico side of the Tijuana border. “Women know how to exploit a man’s weaknesses. An officer with a soft spot for the ladies can be a liability.”
“Or an asset,” Noah said, digging into his pocket.
“What’s that?”
He opened the folded note and scanned its contents. “Just something one of those wicked harlots slipped me. I feel so exploited.”
Patrick’s gaze sharpened. “A tip?”
Noah read the note aloud:
Tony Castillo
gray stucco w/ dark-blue shutters
large cactus out front
400? Fairfax
“If I’m not mistaken, April Ortiz gave us the name and location of Lola Sanchez’s gang connection.”
Patrick glanced in his rearview mirror, making sure the road was clear before executing a quick U-turn and heading back toward Fairfax Avenue. “What was I saying about female interviewees?”
“A bunch of bullshit,” Noah said, smiling.
Patrick smiled back at him. “Okay, smart-ass. I’ll give you this one.”
Noah logged on to his computer, entering Tony Castillo’s name in the system. He had two priors, both for drug possession. The mug shot featured a sleepy-eyed Hispanic man with a tattooed neck and shaved head.
“There’s a warrant out for his arrest,” Noah said. “Failure to appear.”
Patrick grunted his approval. “Last known address?”
“City Heights.” He did a quick search of residents on Fairfax. “Arturo Castillo is listed as the owner of a rental property in that area. Number 413.”
Patrick touched the receiver at his shoulder, calling it in.
“Proceed with caution,” Detective Santiago said. He sounded pleased.
Noah’s pulse began to pound with excitement. In a homicide investigation, the first twenty-four hours were critical. A lead like this could provide the break they needed. And Santiago was letting them follow it.
A thought occurred to him. “Did you tell him I’m applying to his division?”
“I didn’t offer the information,” Patrick hedged.
“He asked?”
“Yes. Said he heard you had promise.”
Noah’s face warmed with a pleasant sort of discomfort. It was the same way he’d felt when April Ortiz came out to say goodbye. For a second he’d thought she was interested in him as a man, not as an officer. Then he’d read her expression, which held no hint of sexual suggestion, and understood her intention.
“You think the club manager’s got something to hide?” Patrick asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he replied. Didn’t everyone?
Number 413 Fairfax was just as April described it. A giant prickly pear cactus lined the sidewalk, partially obscuring the front of the house. Mexican women used the tender new shoots to make nopales, and this one had been picked clean, leaving only the largest, thickest ears. It was as tall and wide as their squad car, a hulking beast with a dozen arms. Streetlights cast its creeping shadow across the barren front yard.
At midnight, most of the neighborhood was dark. There were a few hot spots at the end of the block, with groups of young men and clusters of parked cars. Fairfax was a poor area, known for drug sales and gang activity, but it was also home to honest, hardworking people. Nice families struggling to make a better life.
Noah wished dirtbags like Castillo would stay in designated areas, where kids wouldn’t get caught in the
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