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“Okay, what have we got, Bill?” He had to shout over the buzz of the choppers.
“What?” Garcia put his hand to his ear.
“I said, what have we got?” Sylvester shouted.
“Come take a look,” Garcia said.
He led Sylvester over to the sidewalk and its gleaming stars. Another white sheet was laid over the concrete. This time Sylvester crouched and lifted the sheet himself.
Another pair of Angel wings. Grisly and severed. Just as before, they were laid neatly one across the other, directly over an Angel Star. Sylvester listened to the drone of the choppers as it mixed with the roar of the crowd beyond the tape. He stared at the wings on the pavement in front of him and knew, without a doubt, the magnitude of what was happening. An Angel being mortalized and likely murdered was rare and extremely serious. But its happening twice, and in one week, was unprecedented. He lowered the sheet, removed his glasses, and polished them.
“Someone is cutting off their wings, sir.” Garcia’s voice had a hysterical edge. Sylvester nodded, his face grim. “Sir? Someone is cutting off their wings—”
Sylvester placed a firm hand on Garcia’s shoulder. “I can see that, Bill. Any body?” Garcia shook his head. Sylvester lifted the sheet again and read the blood-splattered name below the wings. “Ryan Templeton.”
“We contacted the Archangels. No one’s heard from him in a few days.”
“And this is the same spot as before?” Sylvester asked, looking around.
“Sir, look where you’re standing.”
Sylvester looked below his feet and read the name of the next Angel Star out loud.
“Theodore Godson.”
“And now Ryan Templeton,” Garcia said. “The very next star.”
“They’re being mortalized in the order of their stars,” Sylvester said slowly. Wearily. He returned his glasses to his face.
The sky roared as another chopper passed close by overhead, its naked spotlight splashing over the scene. Sylvester scowled up at the sky.
“Bill, would you please do me a favor and get those news choppers away from here?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Garcia said. He keyed his radio and began shouting orders.
Sylvester stood. His gaze drifted down the sidewalk and down the stars. He looked at the names and stars on the sidewalk, stars that extended as far as he could see. He imagined an endless body count.
Kneeling down, the detective examined the name of the Angel on the next star.
Garcia read his mind. “No contact with anyone since this afternoon. Could have taken a long trip up to Santa Barbara, turned off his cell to get some peace and quiet, or . . .”
Sylvester cursed under his breath. “And this one?” He motioned to the space on the sidewalk where the next star was. It was blank. Workmen ha
d roped it off, preparing to put a name on it.
“Still don’t know. One of this year’s Commissioning class. We’ve got calls in to the Angels on this one, but they’re not exactly being helpful.”
Crossing under the tape and through the crowds, Sylvester walked out into the middle of Angel Boulevard. Away from the scene, it was quiet. Gusts of wind blew a few crumpled papers end-over-end down the street, while a homeless man pushed a shopping cart and hummed to himself. The detective took a look around. It was empty. Yet even at this hour a few straggling tourists still videotaped the sidewalk while shop owners packed up their displays. Angel figurines, plastic wings, bumper stickers that read “I WAS SAVED IN ANGEL CITY.”
He heard Garcia shuffling up behind him. Sylvester continued staring down the street.
“What is it, Detective?” the sergeant asked.
“You don’t just kill an Angel out here with the whole world watching.” Sylvester pulled his keys out of his coat pocket. “Come on, Bill,” he said as he walked toward his car. “We’re not at the murder scene.”
• • •
Sylvester’s unmarked cruiser turned onto Outpost Road and wound up into the Angel City Hills. The sky over the city was clear and dark, the stars winking in the night. Houses with driveways were quickly superseded by tall hedges obscuring Angel mansions set back from the road. “Always get lost on these roads up here,” Sylvester grumbled as he wound deeper into the private retreat of the Angels’ perfect lives.
