The Pawnbroker by Aimée Thurlo Page A

if I were Baza—who was ostensibly living under the radar—I wouldn’t have driven the car listed on that rental contract. I’d have something else, parked out of sight of that office window, that I could get to in a hurry. Just a thought.” He walked out, closing the door before DuPree could reply.
    He didn’t plan on going far. He’d left his binoculars in the rental car so he could watch the place and see what, if anything, the cops found. Chances were, Baza’s vehicle would be a low-profile, older-model car with a big trunk to hide stuff from view.
    Charlie drove out of the complex, found a Burger King a block down and bought a carton of milk, a Double Whopper, and fries. He drove back, parking along the street south of the complex, where he had a good stakeout view of apartment 108 while he ate lunch.
    Within a few minutes, Patrol Officer Chavez walked to his patrol unit, then started cruising through the complex, looking at the vehicles, stopping once to check out a white Ford Focus. For a few minutes he was out of Charlie’s sight, circling around the other side of a building, but he quickly returned, parking next to apartment 108. Detective DuPree came out, motioned to the big black-and-white mobile crime lab vehicle entering the parking area, and then spoke to Chavez briefly. Clearly, the vehicle, perhaps a white Focus, wasn’t on the grounds of the complex. It was a small car, impractical for Baza. Charlie suspected it didn’t exist except on paper.
    The patrol officer walked back toward the office.
    Charlie suspected that the officers were now going to have to rule out the parked vehicles, checking against an office list. It might take hours, with most of the residents at work. If they didn’t find Baza’s vehicle soon, the search would take on a new level of complexity.
    Charlie finished his fries and watched the crime techs as they hauled out the suitcases and a few cardboard storage boxes, which likely contained the guns, papers, and electronics. Those with memory cards would be examined for names, addresses, and messages.
    Bored, Charlie glanced around the neighborhood, wondering if Baza had parked elsewhere, but close by. Immediately he spotted a gold Mustang pulled up beside a van parked at the curb. From his angle, Charlie couldn’t see the driver, but the guy was talking to the person behind the wheel of the van. Eddie! Charlie thought immediately. He looked for the Mustang’s plate and saw a registration sticker taped to the rear windshield, and one of those parking stickers. This one had a big P in the center, maybe the Premier Apartments? That’s where Eddie lived, supposedly.
    The Mustang pulled away before Charlie could read the letters and numbers on the windshield. He reached down to turn on the ignition, planning to follow. Then he realized that the guy in the van was watching the police with binoculars—like him. Flipping a mental coin, Charlie decided to stay put. Better to find out what this guy was after right now. Besides, if it was Eddie, and he realized he was being followed, the Mustang would leave the rental Chevy in the dust.
    The vehicle was about fifty meters ahead, parked on the same side of the street as he was. Charlie’s heart started beating just a little faster as he wrote down the license plate sequence of letters and numbers. Who was this person, and why was he watching Baza’s place? Was he working for Eddie?
    The guy in the van could also be Baza’s killer, unless Eddie had done the job himself. But why stake out the place now and not yesterday, or last night? If they knew Baza lived there, why wait until after the cops had found it?
    The only answer Charlie could think of at the moment was that Eddie and the guy in the van hadn’t known where Baza lived. They’d followed DuPree—hoping he’d find Baza’s apartment for them.
    If the crime scene techs or DuPree uncovered what Eddie