The Night Crew

door, and suddenly found themselves in Santa Monica Place, a three-story shopping center, in a crowd of people.
    ‘‘He’s a hundred feet up there,’’ Harper said. Anna stepped half out from behind him, saw Clark’s head and shoulders. His hair was thinning, she thought. But he moved well, like he’d been taking care of himself. He was wearing a tan linen jacket and jeans.
    Harper said, ‘‘Come on. We’ve got to stay close or we’ll lose him.’’
    ‘‘Oh, Jesus, Jake . . .’’ She clutched at his arm. ‘‘God, he can’t see me.’’
    ‘‘If he does, you’re with me, on a date,’’ Harper said. ‘‘One of those things.’’
    ‘‘Aw . . .’’
    But she went down past the rows of shops to an escalator, and watched as Clark headed down.
    ‘‘Go slow,’’ Anna said. They waited until Clark was off at the bottom.
    ‘‘Stand behind me,’’ Harper said. ‘‘He’s headed for the food court . . .’’
    Anna, peeking out from behind Harper’s shoulders, saw Clark disappear around a corner, into the food court. ‘‘Let’s go,’’ Harper said, and he started walking down the escalator, hopped off at the bottom, and hurried to the last spot they’d seen Clark; Anna dodged along behind, trying to stay in his shadow. When they turned the corner, Clark was gone.
    ‘‘Where’d he go?’’ Jake asked quietly.
    Anna scanned the crowd: ‘‘I don’t know.’’
    Harper led her to one side: ‘‘He was right here . . . look for the jacket.’’
    No jacket.
    ‘‘Christ . . .’’ Harper turned around. ‘‘Where in the hell did he go?’’ They couldn’t find him. He had absolutely vanished.
    Finally, Anna said, ‘‘Let’s get out of here. I don’t want him popping up in my face. That’d screw us.’’
    Harper nodded: ‘‘All right.’’ And, ‘‘Do you think he spotted us?’’
    ‘‘I don’t think so. He seemed to be in a big hurry.’’
    ‘‘So where the hell did he go? Into one of the concession stands?’’
    ‘‘I don’t know. I just hope he wasn’t watching us—I hope he didn’t see us. I knew we shouldn’t have done this.’’
    Harper stopped her: ‘‘Anna, we should do everything . Every tiny possibility. We oughta give Clark’s name to the cops, and let them check him out.’’
    ‘‘No.’’ End of story.
    Clark’s car was still where he’d left it. ‘‘We could wait,’’ Harper said, glancing at his watch. ‘‘The shopping center closes in ten minutes. There’s a space we could watch from.’’
    Anna, once reluctant, was now curious: where’d he gone? She didn’t want to watch him, only to know. He’d walked into the shopping center and disappeared. Maybe he’d gotten inside and started jogging down toward the end, or pulled off his jacket and they’d missed him in scanning the crowd . . . Maybe he’d spotted them, and was hiding, because he didn’t want to meet her face to face.
    ‘‘Let’s wait—for a while. I’ll call Louis.’’
    They waited for more than an hour, slumped in the car, talking in a desultory way. Louis still hadn’t found anything on McKinley.
    After an hour, Harper called an end to it: ‘‘It’s after ten. Let’s go on back to your place, see if anything turned up.’’
    ‘‘All right. But, goddammit, Jake, we’re stuck.’’

twenty-seven

    The lights were on in the living room, and Anna called, ‘‘Pam? Hello?’’
    But Glass had gone.
    ‘‘Got the house all to ourselves, my little potato dumpling,’’ Harper said, snagging her around the waist.
    Anna twisted in his hands, to face him, said, ‘‘Potato dumpling, my ass,’’ and he said, ‘‘No, definitely not your ass,’’ and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
    But now Harper was looking past her, toward the kitchen, and he said, ‘‘What’s that? In the kitchen.’’
    His voice carried a chill, and Anna turned again, and looked toward the kitchen. She didn’t see anything until he said, ‘‘On the floor.’’ A stain spread across the floor, as though somebody had spilled hot grape jam and left it to coagulate.
    Anna caught Harper’s chill, and pulled away and stepped toward the kitchen. ‘‘Careful,’’ he said, catching her, and she felt in her jacket pocket for the gun. They moved to the edge of the kitchen, and Anna reached inside and flipped on the light.
    The stain was the size of a large human hand; liquid, purple.
    ‘‘Blood,’’ Harper said. ‘‘Don’t go in. We might need crime