He killed Johnny. He’s even more lame than you are.”

Escabar turned away. As she thought it over, she studied his posture. His face and hands. Although she didn’t trust him, she believed that his reaction to her questions was genuine. That her gut instincts about the case were more right than wrong. Gant was the target. Bosco got in the way.

“Why did you tell the deputy chief that you thought this was a robbery?” she said.

Escabar didn’t move, didn’t blink—his eyes fixed on the memory.

“I heard the shots,” he said in a quieter voice. “I ran upstairs and found them. I saw Johnny lying on the floor, but the kid’s face was all fucked up. I didn’t recognize him. When I found out who he was, I knew I’d been wrong. It wasn’t a robbery.”

“Who told you his name?”

“I don’t know. I overheard some cops talking about it in the bar after you showed up.”

“What time did you hear the shots?”

“About twelve-thirty,” he said.

“What was Gant doing here? Why was he upstairs with Bosco?”

Escabar tossed his drink on the ground and set the glass down. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I have no fucking idea.”

“You ever see him here before, Dante?”

He shook his head again. “No.”

“Did Bosco ever talk about him or mention his name?”

“Never.”

“What about the girl’s father? What about Tim Hight?”

In spite of the blue light masking Escabar’s eyes, something changed. Lena could see him thinking it over. The fire inside the man was flaring up again.

“He knows the club,” Escabar said. “Way back before his kid got killed, he used to come here. Not often, but enough to know how the place works and where things are.”

“How could Tim Hight get into Club 3 AM?”

“He used to direct a TV show on cable. People liked it. The show did well.”

“Did you see him here tonight?”

“No, and I’ve already checked. He didn’t walk through the front door and sign in. But like I said, he knows the place.”

Escabar’s voice died off. After a long moment, he climbed to his feet and reached for the table to steady himself. Lena glanced to her right and saw Barrera wave at her through the windows as he circled the foyer inside and searched for the door.

“One more thing, Dante.”

“Just one, Detective Gamble?”

“You know my name.”

He nodded, but remained silent.

“The cocaine,” she said. “You knew it was there. Why didn’t you get rid of it?”

He paused to consider her question, but only briefly. “What cocaine? I never saw any cocaine.