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“Saw it parked out front, one of ’em standing next to it. I called Mom on the cell, but she said they went into the bedroom and closed the door. Tol’ her they had to ask Jamal a few questions. Jus’ like you.”

“And you’re sure they were cops?”

“What else?”

“Were they in uniform?”

“Suits, man,” Leon said. “Black. Plainclothes. I know the law and they was it.”

“No, Leon,” Jack said. “They were bigger than cops.”

Leon made a face. “What the hell that s’posed to mean?”

“The EMT said they phoned in the OD. That was at least a half hour ago. The Tenderloin Station is, what, five minutes from here? You’ve got the largest concentration of parolees in the city with nonstop patrols. Don’t you think they’d be here by now?”

“They don’t give a damn ’bout us, and Jamal was already dead—”

“‘Officers shall investigate and complete Juvenile Disposition Report Form 8716,’ I think it is, ‘and get a statement from the parents and/or guardian in the event of a suicide or accidental death of a person or persons under the age of eighteen,’” Jack said. “They didn’t always come to bail out my ass, either, so I memorized the codes.”

Leon and Max both looked at him.

“This is not a situation someone would slough off unless someone high up told them to do it,” Jack said, adding pointedly: “Someone high up told them to stay away. What happened when you got to the lot?”

“After a while I called Mom again and she said they was gone and Jamal was resting,” Leon said. “I figgered he just pass out, y’know what I’m sayin’?” His manner was different now, cooperative and even contrite. “Next thing I know, you two show up and there’s an ambulance.” He averted his gaze again, sniffed back tears. “I get here an’ paramedics are already about, ‘Jamal OD’d’ and Mom is screamin’ that the cops kilt him. She said she came into the bedroom and found a needle lyin’ on the bed beside his mouth.” Leon glared into space. “My kid brother stuck himself under the tongue, right, ’cause his arm was in a cast? Is that real? We kept drugs on the nightstand so we could shoot up before bed! That’s bullshit, man!”

“Isn’t that how you put your mother to sleep?” Maxine asked.

Leon shifted uneasily.

Jack leaned forward. “Are you sure Jamal didn’t take drugs?”

“I told you, man, that kid was clean. Maybe smoked some weed, but that was it.”

They were all silent a moment. There were a lot of pieces now, but they still didn’t fit. Try throwing a rock and see who throws it back, Bob Copeland had told Jack. What kind of target did they have?

“The guy standing next to the Escalade,” he said to Leon. “Did you get a good look at him?”

The kid shrugged. “Good enough, I guess.”

“Can you describe him for me?”

Leon dug a hand into his pants pocket. “Don’t need to.”

He brought his cell phone out, pressed a few buttons, then handed it to Jack.

A video started playing.

Maxine moved around next to him and they watched together, a dark, shaky shot of the tenement house from about half a block down, a tall, muscular guy in sunglasses standing near the hood of the SUV, looking off toward Jamal’s apartment.

Professional, Jack thought. But definitely not a cop, from the looks of him—local or federal.

So who was he?

The video cut to black and Jack punched a button to play it again.

“What do you think?” Jack asked as the image replayed.

“I think it’s amazing what you can shoot on a cell phone these days. That’s HD quality. Maybe I should chuck the vidcam.”

He made a face but he let it pass. That was Max’s way of blowing off tension; she’d earned the right tonight.

“Why, what do you think?” she asked.

“If I had to guess I’d say private security.”

Max squinted slightly, concentrating. “Y’know, there may be a way we can find out.”

“How?”

She pointed at the Escalade. “We don’t have a view of the license plate, but you see that little rectangle in the corner of the driver’s window?”

Jack looked, nodded. “Parking sticker.”

“Right. And I bet if I dump this video into my system at home, I’ll be able to enhance it enough