Daemon

walk it all the time. I’ve already interviewed a few.’
    ‘Get me a cast of every unique print in this area.’ Sebeck waved his arms downward.
    ‘That’s gonna be a lot of prints.’
    ‘Tell forensics they don’t have to cast the dog tracks.’
    Mantz grinned. ‘I don’t know, I hear Pekinese are pretty smart.’
    Sebeck shot him a dark look and pointed at the bushes. The cable led through a gap in the hillside that opened up back onto Potrero Road. He and Mantz fanned out on either side and moved through the bushes while studying the sandy ground.
    ‘Keep an eye out for rattlesnakes, Pete.’ Mantz jumped over a ditch of eroded soil.
    The cable was easy to follow, and the groove in the soil beneath it shadowed it all the way. After sixty feet they were back at the chain-link fence on Potrero Road, staring at the back of a No Trespassing sign. The cable ran through the fence and into the back of a steel box two feet square sitting atop a thick pipe driven into the ground. The groove in the soil ended six feet away from the fence on their side. They had found no new footprints.
    ‘Let’s head to the other side.’
    In a few minutes they were back on Potrero Road at the gate. They walked a hundred yards down the shoulder and reached the front of the steel box. It had a sturdy lock in its face and was fashioned of welded steel. It had a few indentations where passing teens had taken potshots at it with rifles, but none had penetrated.
    ‘Built to last.’ Sebeck peered around to a square hole in back where the cable entered. ‘Winch housing?’
    Mantz nodded. ‘At first I thought it might be kids playing an evil prank. But this is a serious piece of engineering. What use could this thing serve?’
    They turned as a Range Rover and a pickup truck pulledto the shoulder of the road near the gate. A couple of guys in khakis got out of the Rover. They spoke briefly with the deputies there, who pointed down to Sebeck and Mantz. The khakis climbed back into the Rover. Both vehicles rolled down the shoulder and stopped in front of the detectives, sending a choking cloud of dust over them.
    The khakis got out again. The one on the passenger side came forward with his hand extended. He looked like money – business casual with creases. ‘Detectives. Gordon Pietro, senior legal counsel for CyberStorm Entertainment.’ They shook hands. Pietro pushed business cards on both of them. ‘This is our VP of public relations, Ron Massey.’
    Sebeck nodded. Massey had longer hair than Pietro and a pierced eyebrow with a gold ring. He was in his late twenties and looked like money, too. A pang of jealousy shot through Sebeck. The fact that he could effortlessly beat the shit out of this kid sprang unbidden into his mind. He pushed it back down. ‘This is Detective Mantz. I’m Detective Sergeant Sebeck, East Ventura County Major Crimes Unit.’
    Pietro stopped short. ‘Major Crimes Unit? We were told there was an accidental death on the property.’
    ‘The responding officers called us in. We’re investigating this as a potential homicide.’ Sebeck leaned around Pietro and looked at the pickup truck parked behind the Rover. The pickup had a logo on the side door, illegible at this angle. ‘Who’s in the truck?’
    ‘Oh – a worker from the management firm. They maintain the property. He has a remote for the front gate.’
    ‘Let’s get him out here. I want to talk to him.’
    Pietro walked back, motioning to the guy in the truck.
    Sebeck turned to Massey. ‘What’s this property used for?’
    ‘CyberStorm purchased the land as an investment. It’s also used by the company for campouts, team-building exercises, things like that.’
    Sebeck took out a pad and pen. ‘So you’re the PR guy? What’s CyberStorm Entertainment do, Ron?’
    ‘We’re a leading computer game developer. Ever hear of
Over the Rhine
?’
    ‘No.’
    Burkow shouted from down near the gate. ‘Pete. I got a name from the DMV. The bike’s registered to a Joseph Pavlos. Lives up in those McMansions on the hilltop.’
    Massey put a hand to his chin. ‘Oh man.’
    ‘You know the victim?’
    ‘Yeah. He’s one of our senior developers. What happened?’
    Sebeck gestured with his pen. ‘He hit this cable with his neck. Do you know if he rode down here regularly?’
    ‘I don’t, but his development team might.’
    Pietro returned with a Mexican man in his forties dressed in a green jumpsuit. The guy looked like he’d had a tough