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they cost a lot of money, right?’
    ‘And the judge?’ said Lock.
    Marcie blew on her coffee. ‘There you go again. Why don’t you ask me straight out? Do I think the judge was bribed or someone called in a favour? No, I don’t. I think he was talked into making a mistake. There’s no small-town conspiracy here, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
    He decided to let it go. He believed her and he wanted to get back to Charlie.
    ‘But the Police Department had come into contact with Charlie Mendez before?’
    Marcie made a face. ‘Sure, when he was younger. He was a kid with everything handed to him on a silver platter. A player. He got into some scrapes. Nothing serious, though.’
    ‘What kind of “nothing serious”?’ he prompted.
    ‘Being drunk in public. Shooting off his mouth. A couple of assaults. Always kids smaller than him or when he was with his buddies. Never liked the look of a fight he might lose.’
    ‘Anything of a sexual nature?’
    Marcie took a sip of coffee. ‘That was what was weird when his name came up. I mean, like I said, he was a player, had an eye forthe ladies, but he was good-looking, rich. You wouldn’t think he’d’ve had to drug someone, although in my experience rape isn’t usually about the sex.’
    ‘So why do you think he did it? Some kind of power trip?’ Lock asked.
    ‘I’ve seen a lot of crazy stuff, being a cop. And you want to know what all those years on the job taught me?’
    He nodded.
    ‘When it comes down to the really bad shit, some people are just fucked up.’ She got up and emptied the dregs of her coffee into an old white ceramic sink, then turned on the faucet. Her eyes fell to the folder she had passed to Lock. ‘There’s some more recent material in the back.’
    ‘Concerning?’
    ‘Stuff that makes no sense to me.’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘Such as the last place he’s been seen.’ Marcie sighed. ‘I mean, if you skip bail, and you have more than money than God, why not pick a country that has no extradition treaty with the United States?’
    Lock decided to play devil’s advocate. ‘Not many of those left, and Mexico has worked out pretty well for him so far. Whoever he’s paying to take care of him down there seems to be doing a pretty good job.’
    ‘If he’s still there,’ said Marcie.
    ‘You think he might have left?’
    ‘I know I would have.’
    He thought about it. If Charlie Mendez hadn’t been spooked enough by the first bounty hunter to relocate, he must have a good reason for staying where he was. Obviously he felt safe downthere. ‘What about the family?’ he asked. ‘They have any ties to Mexico? Business interests?’
    ‘Apart from the name, none that anyone in the department knew about, although with old money like that it’s difficult to be sure. There are shell corporations and trusts and a bazillion layers you have to get through. Everything they have is privately held.’
    ‘You have any idea who’s looking after him?’
    Marcie pursed her lips. ‘Well, from the way they dealt with Brady, it looks like narco-traffickers. But you probably guessed that. The girl you caught at the hospital was a Latina gang member?’
    Lock wondered how she knew that, but not for long.
    ‘I made some calls when I heard Melissa had been shot,’ Marcie said.
    ‘Gang ink.’
    Marcie picked up the folder and passed it to him. ‘A lot of people have been hustling to get Mendez returned. But you know how it goes – the more time passes, the more likely it is they’ve moved on to other things. We have a lot of border issues and, with everything that’s going on down there, Mendez is hardly a priority.’
    The folder felt heavy in his hand. ‘Thanks for everything.’
    Marcie smiled. ‘I sure hope you bring him back. He’s a dangerous man to have running around.’

Eleven
    AT HIS HOTEL opposite the Greyhound bus terminal in the centre of Santa Barbara, Lock ordered a club sandwich and some mineral water while he worked