“Sepulveda, not like anyone cares what I think,” muttered Hart.
But Wen didn’t drive like a cop. Even with her flashers on, she ceded the right-of-way when she didn’t have to and crept through intersections like an elderly driver. Clearly, she had never driven patrol as she rode through the ranks. Her career must have taken a more academic path.
Jordan wished he could take the wheel but knew he was lucky to be in the car. If he went back for his own vehicle, hemight never catch up. And really, all that mattered now was being there when they put the cuffs on Cara Campbell.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use this time productively. As the car rolled onto the 101, heading east, he unlocked his phone and located the purple button he’d never once pressed before. To his left, Hart was watching the road. To his right, Ellett was typing furiously on her laptop. Neither so much as glanced over.
Jordan opened Podcasts and searchedDylan Danvers.California Death Tripcame up right away, apparently the #1 true-crime podcast in the country. Or were the rankings international? Jordan had no idea what the ranking had been last week, but with Campbell’s case generating endless publicity, it was no surprise the show was so popular.
He skimmed the show notes for several of the most recent episodes and then pressed the plus sign to subscribe. He’d listen as soon as he had a few spare hours—and after he bought some earbuds.
His phone chimed with an incoming call before he could put it back in his pocket. Beto.
“Hey, we need to talk,” said his chief deputy.
“Kind of busy at the moment,” Jordan told him quietly.
“Not too busy for this. I found our leaker.”
Jordan lowered the phone and asked Wen, “How far away are we?”
“Twenty minutes,” said Wen.
“If you’re lucky,” said Crosby.
“I’ll call you back in half an hour,” Jordan told Beto.
SIXTY-FIVE
CARA
That chick and her crazy-ass hair didn’t fool me. I knew who she was the second I saw her.
—Joey Lund, Freelance Entrepreneur, speaking to TMZ.com
The hair salon was on the lowest level of a three-story, 1980s strip mall two blocks off Rodeo Drive. Neither Alejandro, who tended to Stephanie’s tresses, nor his first assistant, Nestor, could possibly take a walk-in, so Cara had been assigned to the assistant’s assistant, Dorit, a young woman with a black cat tattoo nestled in her cleavage.
Cara hoped her ink wasn’t a bad omen.
“My friend got a hold of hair color, scissors, and a bottle of Grey Goose during a bad break-up,” Stephanie explained as Dorit disbelievingly ran her fingers through Cara’s sheep-sheared, purple-black disaster.
“Sure there weren’t hard drugs involved?” asked the hairstylist. “You really did a number on yourself.”
“Maybe some weed,” Cara said.
Stephanie waved her hand at Cara’s new clothes, then at her hair. “I took her shopping, but she obviously can’t truly start to heal until we fix... this.”
Dorit motioned for them to follow, then led the way to her station at the very back of the long, mirrored room. As Cara sat in the black-leather swivel chair, half-moons of sweat dampened her new blouse. Despite the heavy eyeshadow and liner Stephanie had applied in the dark parking garage, she still looked too much like her wanted poster. One call from a client and the Beverly Hills police would storm the salon. Hopefully, Stephanie wouldn’t slip and use her real name.
“We had someone in here the other day who decided to shave her head—like Britney back in the day—and then changed her mind after two swipes of the razor,” Dorit said amiably as she put a cape around Cara’s neck. “Alejandro worked his magic and she left looking incredible. A week later, people were coming in to ask for the same style.”
“I keep thinking Car... oline kind of gave herself a wolf cut, right?” Stephanie asked hopefully.
As the two of them circled the chair, examining her from above and below, a neighboring stylist suggested, “Maybe add some choppy extensions and bangs. You know who you’ll kind of look like then?”
“Billie Eilish?” Cara said, wondering how many seconds it would take to reach the fire exit.
Dorit squeezed Cara’s neck. “Holy shit!Don’tlook.”
