Free Chasing Darkness by Robert Crais Page A

freeway at the bottom of the Cahuenga Pass and called John Chen as I headed downtown. Chen was a senior criminalist with LAPD’s Scientific Investigation Division, and one of the greediest people I knew. He was also a total paranoid.
    Chen answered so softly I could barely hear him.
    â€œI can’t talk. They’re watching me.”
    You see?
    â€œI’m calling about Lionel Byrd. You have a minute?”
    Lindo mentioned Chen had worked on the case.
    â€œWhat’s in this for me?”
    The greed.
    â€œI’m not convinced Byrd killed Yvonne Bennett. I have questions about the most recent victim, too. She doesn’t match up with the others.”
    â€œYou’re talking about Repko?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    Chen lowered his voice even more.
    â€œIt’s weird you’re asking about her.”
    â€œWhy weird? Is she different from the others?”
    â€œNot so much, but the way they’re handling her is different. Shit—Harriet’s coming. I gotta go.”
    Harriet was his boss.
    â€œCall me, John. Repko and Byrd. I need your work, the CI, the medical examiner—whatever you can get. I’m heading downtown now.”
    â€œThis is going to cost you.”
    Twenty minutes later I pulled into the parking garage beneath Barshop, Barshop & Alter, and brought the copy of my file upstairs to a lobby rich with travertine, cobalt glass, and African teak. Low-life criminals like Lionel Byrd could never hope to hire them, much less afford their fee, but Levy saw Byrd’s trumped-up confession as a ticket to argue before the California Supreme Court. After twenty years of practicing criminal law, Levy boasted a ninety-eight-percent acquittal rate and seven arguments before the California Supreme Court. Six of the seven were decided in Levy’s favor and resulted in precedent-setting case law. It was for this opportunity that Levy agreed to represent Lionel Byrd pro bono—for free. Levy’s firm even threw in my fee.
    Levy’s assistant was waiting when the elevator opened.
    â€œMr. Cole? I’m Jacob. If you’ll come with me, please.”
    Alan was on the phone when we reached his office, seated behind a desk that probably cost a hundred thousand dollars. He raised a finger, indicating he would be with me in a minute, then made a brushing gesture, the brush telling Jacob to leave.
    Levy was a large man in his late forties with a wide head, bulging eyes, and poorly fitting clothes. He carried himself as if he was embarrassed by his appearance, but juries probably related to the sloppy clothes and awkward manner. I figured he was faking it. The first thing you noticed when you stepped into his office were the pictures of his family. Framed photographs of his wife and two little girls smiled down from the walls.
    When Levy finished the call, he offered his hand as he gestured at the files.
    â€œIs that everything?”
    â€œYeah. I kept a copy for myself.”
    â€œThat’s fine. I just want to be sure we’re on firm legal ground before we hand them over. Here, let’s sit.”
    He took the files and motioned me to a soft leather club chair on the other side of his office. He dropped onto the opposite chair, leaning forward like he was about to fly off a diving board.
    I said, “You see the news?”
    â€œI did. I also met with a representative of the DA’s office and Chief Marx this morning. Would you like coffee? Jacob could get you a coffee.”
    â€œI’m fine. What are we going to do about this, Alan?”
    The bulging eyes blinked.
    â€œAbout what? I’m going to let them examine the files. I don’t see any reason not to cooperate.”
    â€œNot the files. Byrd. He didn’t kill Yvonne Bennett.”
    A line appeared between his eyebrows and he shook his head.
    â€œThere’s nothing to do, Elvis. Pinckert and Marx explained their investigation to me this morning. If I had this