Pike checked his watch. The luminous hands told him it was 3:17 in the morning. Cole had relieved him ninety minutes ago, and now sat outside Carla Fuentes’s house, waiting for Mendoza. Pike had come home to grab some rest, but his sleep was finished for the night.

Pike untangled the sheets, then swung his feet from the bed. He saw his cell phone on the nightstand and thought of Dru. He checked the phone, but found no messages or missed calls.

Pike pulled on a pair of light blue running shorts, yesterday’s sweatshirt, and carried his shoes downstairs before putting them on. He didn’t turn on the lights. He didn’t need to. He saw well enough in the dark.

Downstairs, he drank half a bottle of water, put on his shoes, then strapped on a nylon fanny pack. He wore the fanny pack to carry his phone, keys, DL, and a .25-caliber Beretta pocket gun.

Pike deactivated his alarm, set it to re-arm in sixty seconds, then let himself out.

He stood very still, taking the measure of his surroundings, then stretched and set off on his run. Pike almost always ran the same four or five routes, heading up along Ocean Boulevard through Santa Monica to the canyons, or around Baldwin Hills on La Cienega past the oil pumps. That night, he ran west on Washington Boulevard straight to the sea, then north to the top of the Venice Canals and an arched pedestrian bridge. He stopped at the crest of the bridge to look down the length of the canal.

A dog barked further inland somewhere in Ghost Town, and Pike heard vehicles on nearby Pacific Boulevard, but here the houses slept. The smell of the sea was strong. The largest canal—Grand Canal—ran to the ocean through Marina del Rey, and fed the five inland canals with life. Small fish swam in the shallow water, and sea plants grew in wavy clumps.

Pike had chosen this bridge because it gave him a view of Dru’s house. Many of the homes had exterior security lights, which now shimmered on the water, but the distance and coastal mist made picking out her house difficult. He found Lily Palmer’s large white modern first, then Dru’s redwood on the far side. Like many of the other homes, it was dotted by bright exterior floodlights which were probably on an automatic timer. Then he noticed the upstairs bedroom was lit. He watched the light, searching for shadows, but nothing moved.

Pike trotted off the bridge and along the narrow alleys to Dru’s house. Nothing and no one stirred, and no dogs barked. Pike thought, these people should have dogs.

Streetlamps and security lights blazed hot in the confined lane, giving the mist a purple-blue glow. Pike stopped outside Dru’s house. A few windows glowed dull ocher in the surrounding houses, but most were dark and all were quiet. No one was awake. Even Jared’s window was dark.

Pike took his cell phone from the fanny pack, and thumbed the speed-dial button for Elvis Cole. Cole answered on the second ring, his voice soft, but completely alert.

“What’s up?”

Pike spoke in a whisper.

“You leave a light on in the top bedroom at Dru’s?”

“A light?”

“I’m outside the house. The upstairs bedroom is lit.”

“I was up there. I don’t remember turning on a light, but I don’t remember not turning it on, either. I don’t know.”

“Mm.”

“You think someone’s in there now?”

“Just wondering about the light.”

“You going inside?”

“Yes.”

“The spare key I found, it’s behind the fence next to the gatepost. Not the one next to the house. The other side.”

“Anything on your end?”

“Lights out, game over. She’s in a coma.”

“Okay.”

“Listen. Call me when you leave there, okay? You don’t call, I’m gonna come over there expecting to save you, then I’ll miss Mendoza.”

Pike put away the phone. He breathed in the air and the street and the scent of the sea, listening, but heard only ambient noise. He stepped into the shadows near the gate, then lifted himself over and dropped silently into the courtyard. He paused to listen, then felt for the key.

He used a full minute to ease the key into the lock, another minute to turn the knob, and two full minutes to open the door. The entry was dark, fielding only a dim glow that escaped from above. Pike strained to catch sounds from the house, but heard nothing. Only then did he close the door.

Pike moved through the house without turning on lights, and avoided the windows. The big windows allowed enough ambient light for him to see that nothing was disturbed. Everything was as he remembered and as Cole described.

He reached the top bedroom, but did not enter. A nightstand lamp was on. Pike thought back to his fast trip through the house that morning, but didn’t remember the lamp. It was a small lamp. During the day, its light could have been swallowed by the sun, which explained why he and Cole didn’t remember it, but Pike didn’t like not knowing. The lamp was a problem.

Pike backed away, let himself out, locked the door, and replaced the key by the fence. He stood in the courtyard for another moment, listening, then slipped through the shadows alongside Dru’s house until he reached the edge of the canal.

He wondered where Dru and Wilson were, and if they were all right. He wanted to believe they were, but he knew this was unlikely. He heard a distant barking again, and wondered if it was a sea lion out past the locks.

Pike studied the houses across the canal, and the far bridge where he had just been standing. Needle feet crept up his back along with the words in Wilson’s shop.

I am here.

Pike stepped backward into the shadows. He slowed his breathing, and silenced his body to listen. He searched the far bank for reflections and movement. The water lapped. Lights bounced on its obsidian surface. Pike wondered if predators swam this far inland. He wondered if they hid beneath the surface.