The Night Crew

‘‘Are you with the police?’’
    ‘‘I can have the office in charge of the L.A. County serialmurder task force call you in five minutes, if you have something to say,’’ Anna said.
    Another pause. ‘‘And this isn’t a joke. We didn’t receive anything like this information . . . before.’’
    ‘‘You mean from Mr. Judge?’’
    ‘‘Yes, from Steve. The stalking, I mean, he suggested it might be somewhat the other way around, that’s why we . . .’’
    ‘‘Ma’am, I’m going to have Lieutenant Wyatt from the Santa Monica police department—he’s the head of the task force for this series of crimes—I’m going to have him call you in the next five minutes. Please tell him everything you know.’’
    ‘‘How do I know this isn’t some kind of, of, arrangement? That he’s a policeman?’’
    ‘‘If you would like, you could call the Santa Monica Police Department on your own. I’ll give you the area code, you can get the number from information—and they will transfer you to Lieutenant Wyatt.’’
    ‘‘Oh, God. Okay, I’ll call Santa Monica.’’
    ‘‘Wait five minutes,’’ Anna said. ‘‘I’ve got to tell Lieutenant Wyatt that you’ll be calling.’’
    Anna gave the woman the area code for Santa Monica, rang off, said to Harper, ‘‘I think he’s the one, all right, Steve Judge,’’ and punched in the Santa Monica police department number. A woman answered, and Anna told her that she needed to speak to Wyatt immediately, and spent a minute filling the woman in. She rang off again and Harper said, ‘‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’’
    She said, ‘‘Jake, I know you do. But he’s probably in Pasadena, anyway. This is just something that we can cover better than the cops could. If the cops even decide to go up to the ranch, it’ll take them three or four hours to get a SWAT team over there . . . trying to talk to Ventura, trying to figure out where it is and how to get there. They’ll have to get maps and all that stuff . . . There’s no way Pam’ll get out alive: he’s nuts, he’s itching to kill her. There’s no way they’ll even find him, until it’s too late. And if he gets out, where’s the evidence that he was even there?’’
    ‘‘There’d be some prints in your car, his behavior . . .’’
    ‘‘But that won’t get Pam out.’’
    The phone rang in her lap and she picked it up, ready to switch it on, already hearing Wyatt’s voice, when Harper swatted it out of her hand. ‘‘No, no,’’ he said urgently. ‘‘What if it’s him?’’
    But there was no second ring. Then five seconds later, it rang again. She didn’t wait for the third time, but said, ‘‘Hello?’’
    Wyatt said, ‘‘You were supposed to wait for the third ring.’’
    ‘‘No time,’’ Anna said.
    ‘‘What’s happening? Where are you?’’
    ‘‘We’re running up to Ventura to check on something . . . just in case,’’ Anna said. ‘‘Listen, a woman’s going to call you from a place called Cut Canyon Ranch, up in Oregon.’’
    She explained the circumstances, and Wyatt said, ‘‘You think they did something weird with the call?’’
    ‘‘It’s not weird, if you’re wired right,’’ Anna said. ‘‘You just push a button. No big deal. But if they were faking it, then there’s a lot better chance that he’s the guy.’’
    ‘‘All right, I’ll talk to her.’’
    ‘‘Are you heading for Pasadena?’’
    ‘‘We’re on the way, but we’re still getting people together.’’
    ‘‘Good luck. And gimme your number.’’
    Wyatt dictated a number; Anna rang off and said to Harper, ‘‘Still getting people together. Damn, damn, damn, there’s no time for that.’’ Anna sat in the car while Harper ran inside his house. He was back a minute later, carrying a short rifle, fumbling with a box of shells. ‘‘Gimme,’’ Anna said. ‘‘You drive, I’ll load.’’
    ‘‘You know how?’’
    ‘‘I can figure it out.’’
    ‘‘Just feed them in the bottom, there’s a release just in front of the trigger guard.’’
    ‘‘Think it’s enough gun?’’ Anna asked, looking at the magazine mechanism.
    ‘‘It’s an old Ruger forty-four,’’ Harper said. ‘‘It’ll do the job.’’
    They slewed out the end of his driveway, Jake driving with both hands as Anna fed the short fat shells into the rifle. The rifle was short, with a smooth walnut stock: comfortable. And then the phone rang. Once, twice, three