‘Oh, it gets worse. According to this, those hands might just belong to the children in the fateful school bus accident years ago that left the driver and all the children dead. Now the children try to prevent another accident.’
‘Okay. So, Dylan met the mysterious Erica at a spot where the ghosts of dead children push cars uphill? I can’t help thinking he was asking for trouble.’
‘Well he sure found it. Let’s get over there. But we still need to get Geisler to rip up this computer. If Hansen’s been on dating sites then we need to know everything we can.’
‘Well, maybe we’ll find some of it at Gravity Hill. With the rest of the ghosts.’
*
It was twilight when they reached the bend on Loma Alta that the locals called Gravity. The gloom was settling over the San Gabriels but they could still see the road sloping away from them, down the hill to one of only two houses in sight, the other just peeking out from raised land to their right.
Salgado pulled into the side of the road and looked downhill at the house, a modest beige adobe topped by wooden panelling on the extension above. He looked much longer than he needed to.
‘I’ve been doing some googling of my own,’ he told her. ‘It’s said that if you sprinkle baby powder on the car’s bumper before you park here, not only will you get pushed up the hill, but the powder will reveal tiny fingerprints where the kids have put their hands. Apparently, hundreds of people have reported exactly this phenomenon.’
O’Neill sighed. ‘I don’t doubt it. The powder would reveal prints that were already there, just the same way fingerprint powder does.’
‘You know how to take the fun out of everything, don’t you?’
‘It’s a gift.’
She watched Salgado stare at the road until impatience got the better of her. ‘Oh for God’s sake, just get it over with.’
‘What?’ Salgado protested innocence.
‘I know you too well. Get the car in neutral and see what it does. I know you’re desperate to try it.’
He grinned. ‘We kind of have to, right?’
‘You do. Like I said, just get on with it.’
Salgado rolled down the window. ‘I want to hear if there’s anything going on. The buzz of a magnetic field. The chatter of ghostly schoolkids.’
She ignored him so he slipped the shift into neutral and released the brake. Nothing happened for a moment or two, then they began to move. Slowly. Uphill.
Salgado grinned wildly and O’Neill shook her head in despair. They rolled ‘up’ the hill far enough that she was able to take in the view on the other side of the fence that ran the side of the road to their left.
‘Stop the car.’
‘You don’t think this is cool?’
‘Stop the car, asshole. There’s a white Nissan parked over there. It looks like a Sentra to me.’
‘Shit.’ Salgado stopped the fooling immediately. He slid the car into drive, made for the other side of the road and parked on the gravel shoulder. He was out of the car in seconds, vaulting over the fence despite its barbed-wire topping.
He was back just a few minutes later. ‘It’s Hansen’s. Licence plate matches. It’s locked, no obvious sign of anything suspicious. I’ve called it in, so we can get it opened up.’
‘Well, at least we know we’re in the right place. We know Garland took him from here. We just need to know where the hell he took him.’
She sighed heavily and looked down – or up – the hill again, where the beige adobe stood. ‘Let’s go knock on the door. They’ve got to be our best chance of someone having seen something.’
The door was answered on the third knock and a tall, grey-haired man in his mid-fifties opened up, a friendly crossbreed dog weaving around his knees. The man’s face was tanned and weather-lined but his eyes were startlingly bright blue against the leathery skin. They both sensed an instant weariness of strangers arriving on his doorstep.
‘Can I help you?’
O’Neill held up her badge and saw the look on the man’s face change, brows furrowing into a crease of worry.
‘Detectives O’Neill and Salgado. LAPD. We’re working in the area and wanted to ask householders a few questions, Mr . . .’
‘Lohmann. Tommy Lohmann. What’s happened?’
‘There’s a car parked up the hill a way, on the other side of the fence. White Nissan. Have you seen it?’
Lohmann nodded. ‘Been there for nearly a week. I’ve been minded to call the cops but it’s not in anyone’s way so I haven’t. Should I have?’
‘Well, it might have helped. Did you see the person who’d been driving it?’
The man made an apologetic face. ‘Not really. I think I saw him but didn’t pay much attention. We get so many people up here trying out the hill that it gets to be a pain in the ass pretty quickly. I did see the car he got into, though.’
Salgado and O’Neill flinched in unison.
‘I was taking Madden here for a walk and saw someone walk from the direction of where the Nissan is parked and get into a cherry-red Toyota SUV. I guess I knew there was something weird about it because they didn’t try to roll up the hill. The car kinda rocked for a bit then drove away again. It was only the next day I saw the Nissan but didn’t give it too much thought. Sorry if I should have.’
Ethan Garland drove a cherry-red Toyota 4Runner.
‘Which way did the car leave, Mr Lohmann? Up hill . . .’ Salgado tried to be clearer. ‘Past your house or away from it?’
‘Past my place.’
‘Where would he likely be heading if he went that way?’
‘Pretty much anywhere. You’d head that way to get onto Lake Avenue then south to Pasadena and from there to LA. If you knew the area and were heading to San Bernardino or Ontario maybe, you’d go the other way. LA most likely, I’d say.’
LA. Big place. Big haystack.
CHAPTER 36
‘Elvis has entered the building.’
The forensic tech’s cheery greeting did not meet the mood within the office on West 1st Street. Instead, he was met with stony-faced silence by the two detectives to whom he’d promised news. He’d called ahead to say he had more DNA results and they were more than anxious to hear them. His face fell at their lack of reaction.
‘Should I have brought doughnuts? Is that where I’ve gone wrong?’
O’Neill jumped in before Salgado could, eager not to let it dissolve into anything that slowed them down.
‘We’re just up against the clock here, Elvis. What have you got for us?’
The crime scene tech heard the tone, businesslike and urgent, and shrugged. ‘I get it. We’re all on the clock on this one. Okay, I have the remaining DNA results from the body parts in Garland’s cellar. And I have positive IDs on three of the four. The first is one you’re expecting.’
Salgado’s excitement got the better of him. ‘Adrian Mercado?
Elvis nodded. ‘Yes. The ear proved a match to the DNA sample you got from his father. No question it’s his.’
The detectives nodded at each other, soberly. They’d been sure, but now they knew.
‘Okay, good.’ O’Neill spoke for them both. ‘What else have you got?’