The Watchman by Robert Crais

with you on that.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You fled the scene in fear for your life and reported what happened to the Justice Department. All of this happened with the full knowledge of the Justice Department. These people are good with that?”
    “I never met them.”
    Cole stared at his friend. Pike stood on the opposite side of the kitchen with his back to the wall, so effortlessly he might have been floating. His dark glasses were black holes, as if part of him had been cut away.
    Pike said, “Either way, we have a bigger problem than the police. The shooters knew our location at both safe houses. They had her when she was with the marshals and again when Bud took her to a hotel. You see how it is?”
    Even with the water, Cole lowered his voice. Now he understood why Pike wouldn’t talk in front of the girl.
    “Someone on her side is giving her up.”
    “I took her. I cut Bud and the feds out of the loop. I figure as long as no one knows where she is, I can protect her.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “Find Meesh.”
    Cole glanced at the printout again.
Currently believed to be residing in Bogotá, Colombia.
    “Meesh might not even be in Los Angeles. He might be back in Colombia.”
    “He’s tried to kill this girl five times. You don’t want someone dead that badly, then go away and hope it gets done—you make sure it happens.”
    Pike went to the pad and pen Cole kept by his phone and scribbled something.
    “I dropped the Jeep and got a new phone. This is the number.”
    Cole’s insides felt queasy, but he felt that way often since he was shot. The doctors said it would take time. They said it might never be better.
    “You have any idea who’s giving her up?”
    “Bud is working on it, but who can I trust? Might be one of his people. Might even be one of the feds.”
    Cole put the number aside. He turned back to the pan and laid in the vegetables. The pan was too hot, but he loved the smell when they hit the hot steel.
    Cole and Pike had been through a lot. They had been friends a long time. When Cole woke from his coma, Joe Pike had been holding his hand.
    Cole put down the fork and turned.
    “I don’t like this. I don’t like you getting involved in something and not knowing who you’re involved with. This guy Meesh. These feds you haven’t met. Your friend Flynn you haven’t seen in twenty years. It is not up to our standards.”
    Pike was as still as a statue, as if parts of the story were hidden by shadows.
    “Well?”
    “I didn’t come just for your help. If these people know who I am, they might try to find me through you.”
    An unexpected sadness emanated from behind the black glasses.
    Pike said, “I’m sorry.”
    Cole felt a sudden flush of embarrassment and turned back to the food.
    “Those clowns show up here, I’ll kick their bitch asses.”
    Pike nodded.
    Cole said, “I’ll see what I can find out about your boy Meesh. We’ll start with Larkin when she’s done with the shower. Maybe she knows more than she thinks.”
    Pike shifted against the wall.
    “We can’t hang here, Elvis.”
    Cole understood. If the shooters or the police showed up, Pike wanted the girl gone.
    “Then you talk to her. But one more thing. When I’m looking into Meesh, I’m going to check out your friend Bud Flynn, too.”
    Pike’s mouth twitched, and Cole wondered if Larkin had noticed that Pike never laughed or smiled. As if the part of a man who could feel that free was dead in Pike, or buried so deep that only a twitch could escape.
    Pike said, “Whatever.”
    Cole was building the sandwiches when Pike’s cell phone rang, and Pike brought the phone out to the deck.
    Cole layered the vegetables onto whole wheat bread, spread the layers with hummus, then placed the sandwiches back in the grill pan to crisp the bread.
    The running water suddenly stopped and its absence was loud in the silence. A few minutes later, the girl came down the hall. Pike was still outside with his