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Dance continued, "But she gave up another name. Pete or Pedro Escalanza. TJ's going to track it down. Ninety percent the guy's got Serrano's present whereabouts."
"Lead to a lead to a lead," Foster said with buoyant cynicism.
Allerton asked, "So, at the houseboat. It was productive."
"That's right."
"And you're okay. Jimmy's okay?"
"I'm good," Gomez said.
"Tia was saying this Escalanza, he's got access to some of Serrano's accounts. If we play it right, we might be able to pick up his credit card numbers, track him in real time."
"Or maybe we'll find another lead," Foster chimed in. "Let's be transparent here. I'm not overly reassured."
Stemple coughed.
Dance said, "The best we could do, Steve."
Allerton said, "I'll tell Charles."
"Thanks."
"We're coming back in."
Dance disconnected.
Stemple said, "Life's a fucking checker game. No, chess. You play chess, Jimmy?"
"No. You?"
"Yeah, I play chess."
"Really?" Gomez asked.
"Why really? Because I bench-press three hundred and group my rounds touching at fifty feet--if I'm using the long barrel?"
"I don't know. You just don't seem like a chess player."
"Mostly people think I tap-dance for a hobby."
In a half hour, 11:00 a.m., she was back in CBI headquarters, heading toward Overby's office, in the company of TJ Scanlon.
As they walked along, she checked her phone again. Texts from her mother, Boling. Maggie, silly and happy--because, of course, she'd been pardoned from the cruel and unusual punishment of singing in her class's talent show.
Nothing from O'Neil.
Did she expect an apology? The hard words had been motivated by his concern for her but she'd found them patronizing. That was difficult for her to get past.
She supposed the frisson between them would dissipate, like smoke from a brief fire. This happened from time to time, head butting. Still, they had had such a complicated history, personal and professional, that she never knew if the flare would spread like a wind-fueled brushfire racing over the dry, bristly coat of the landscape in this state. Destructive, even fatal. She never prepared for a final rift with Michael O'Neil because, well, it was unimaginable.
A glance at her phone once more. Nothing.
Let it go...
They arrived at Overby's office and the CBI head waved them inside. "Just found something interesting. Got a call from Oakland PD. The arson?"
Dance nodded and explained to TJ about the Operation Pipeline warehouse that some crew burned down.
