City of Echoes by Robert Ellis Read Free Book Online

measuring Cabrera, he thought he could see the Grim Reaper moving in behind his back.
    “Do I need to worry about you?” Lane repeated.
    Cabrera shook his head back and forth in a wide arc, his eyes locked on Lane’s. Matt recognized the look on his partner’s face from both his time in Afghanistan and as a patrol officer on the streets in Los Angeles. It was the look you gave someone as you eased your hand toward your sidearm, popped the strap, and switched off the safety.
    “No need to worry about me,” Cabrera said. “We’re all friends here.”
    Lane nodded and turned back to Matt. “Bring him along then.”
    “Bring him along where, Frankie?”
    “We’re taking a short drive. I want to show you something. It’s just down the street.”
    Matt and Cabrera traded quick looks as Lane climbed into the backseat.
    “Make a right out of the lot,” Lane said. “When you hit Tujunga, make another right. After a couple blocks you’ll see North Hollywood Park. I’ll tell you when to pull over, Matt. I’ll tell you when. I can trust you, right, Cabrera? No need to worry about you. Everything’s cool. Everybody’s safe. No need to worry about either one of you guys. My partner’s dead, but that was last night, and today everything’s cool.”
    Matt was staring into the rearview mirror as he pulled out onto Burbank Boulevard. He could see Lane fidgeting in the backseat, checking the windows both left and right, turning around and peering out the rear window to see if they were being followed. His movements were short and jerky and frantic, his eyes wild like the eyes of a man trapped inside a straitjacket.

CHAPTER 11
    Matt gave Lane a hard look as the man blazed across the lawn. Had he not known better, Matt would have said that Lane had spent the night snorting blow, peaked and hit bottom, and was now struggling to shed the paranoia and climb back out of his high.
    Had he not known better.
    Still, as he and Cabrera followed Lane’s frenetic path through the trees to the far side of the park, he had no confidence in the man. He could see it on Cabrera’s face as well. It felt like they were placating Frankie, and unfortunately they didn’t have that kind of time.
    Matt fought off the urge to check his watch and looked around to get his bearings. They were south of the library and blocks away from the recreational center. There was nothing here, just acres of trees and grass as the park widened, then began to narrow, following the course of the Hollywood Freeway on its western border. Although paths cut through the lawns, Matt didn’t see a single bench or picnic table. Even with the sound of the freeway in full bloom, he was struck by how remote and secluded it felt here. How far away it seemed despite the park’s footprint and the strong smell of diesel exhaust and spent gasoline permeating the air.
    Matt turned back, crossing another path onto the lawn. As they hiked beneath a series of large oak trees, he looked ahead and began to understand where Lane might be leading them. He could see the flowers and battery-powered candles and notes and photographs set on the grass before the tree on the very end. It was a memorial, sacred ground—someone had died here.
    Lane slowed to a stop as they reached the tree, and Matt followed his gaze to a photograph stapled to the bark.
    It was a young woman, a brunette with bangs and gray eyes smiling directly at the camera. She had a certain way about her, a certain look that vaguely reminded him of a friend’s younger sister back in Jersey. Maybe it was her bangs or just the clean feel of her smile.
    “You know her?” Lane asked.
    The memory faded, and Matt nodded. He had seen photographs and images of the murder victim on the late-night news. Her name was Faith Novakoff, and until two weeks ago she had been a freshman in college living in a dormitory in Exposition Park. The LAPD had held a short press conference, releasing only the most basic information about her