“You think it’s a man or a woman?”

“I’ve got no idea. These shitheads don’t take time to aim anymore. They watch too much TV. They fly sideways. They pull the trigger and spray, then it’s done and run.”

Matt didn’t say anything, watching the photographer frame his camera from the passenger-side window. As the man burst through another series of rapid-fire shots, the corpse appeared to be vibrating in the light. Matt found the simulated animation of the body extraordinarily unnerving. For a half second he thought it might really be moving. That everything he was seeing had been staged for his benefit as some kind of sick initiation by the department.

Welcome to Hollywood Homicide. The dead body in the shot-up SUV was just about to sit up and say boo.

He wished for it, hoped for it, but knew that it was only a fantasy.

Cabrera gave him a nudge and pointed to the victim’s left arm. “Maybe it really was a holdup.”

Matt didn’t get it until he tilted his head to the right and spotted the gunshot wound on the inside of the victim’s left forearm. He understood that he was staring at an entrance wound, and that whoever this was had most likely been holding their arms up at the time of the shooting. But even more, it was a big wound. Way too big to have been made by a 9 mm pistol. He remembered those shell casings on the pavement. At a glance they had appeared longer than most. But just as he turned to look, he noticed a pair of cops standing off to the side and realized that they were waiting for him.

“You guys get here first?” he said.

They nodded at him and stepped out of the shadows, the older of the two introducing himself as Hank Andrews, with his partner, Travis Green.

Matt moved closer to shake hands. “You run the plates?”

Andrews nodded. “A GM dealership over at the auto mall on Brand. They’re closed. We’re trying to track down the manager, but he’s not answering his cell.”

“How’d you get his cell number?”

“Glendale PD gave us his home number. He’s got a live-in girlfriend. She doesn’t know where he is. She’s worried about him.”

“Did she give you a description?”

Andrews nodded again.

“Does it match?”

The cop fought off a grimace. “You looked inside that window just the same as we did, Detective. Who could tell?”

A cell phone began chirping from the SUV.

Matt rushed back to the driver’s-side window and gazed inside with Cabrera. The phone was set in the ashtray, blinking on and off and lighting up the dash. Matt turned to the photographer in the passenger-side window as he dug a pair of vinyl gloves out of his pocket and slipped them on.

“You got a shot of the phone?” he said.

The photographer pulled his eye away from the camera and nodded. “From every angle. Go ahead, pal.