Page 42 of Wild Sentinel

"I can find out. Just saves me a step."

She sighed. "Fine. I'll text it to you."

I thanked her for her cooperation.

We left the office, strolled back down the hallway, and said goodbye to Tonya. The elevator took us down to the lobby.

Jack muttered, "I wouldn't want to get on her bad side."

We left the building and waited for the valet to pull the Ferrari around. I called Brendan to confirm Rachel’s alibi.

25

We set out to find Seth Porter, Lucas Reed's neighbor. He lived in a roach trap in Hollywood. The Spanish Colonial Revival was built in the late 1930s. With a stucco exterior, a low-pitched roof, and light ornamentation, it was probably once a nice building. Now, the front façade was covered in graffiti and gang signs.

It was one of the classic Hollywood courtyard buildings, constructed in an O-shape around a central oasis, often with a small pool or lush greenery. But there was nothing lush about this now. The landscaping was withered and brown.

Packed with cars, it took some doing to find a place to park on the street. We had to leave the Ferrari a block over. Not particularly the best neighborhood for an unattended exotic sports car.

Mindful of the street signs, we hopped out, hustled down the sidewalk, rounded the corner, and approached the building. At the call box, I buzzed Seth Porter's unit.

"What do you want?" a voice crackled through the speaker a moment later.

"Seth Porter?"

"Who's asking?"

"County sheriff. I have a few questions for you about Vivian Steele.”

"I already talked to you guys. I told you everything I know. And fuck you for releasing my name to the press. I told you I wanted to remain anonymous.”

The line disconnected.

I shared a look with JD and buzzed the unit again.

It rang and rang and rang, but Seth didn't answer.

At least we knew he was in the complex.

We waited around for 15 or 20 minutes, then someone finally left the apartment. We slipped in before the security gate closed. The young woman looked at us with concerned eyes, but continued about her business.

We scanned the complex, looking for Seth's unit. He lived in #6 upstairs. JD and I climbed the steps, hustled down the walkway, and I banged on the door. "Seth, county sheriff. We really need to talk to you. I'm sorry you had a bad experience with the West Beverly PD."

Floorboards creaked as he shuffled around.

"We're not going anywhere,” I assured. “We can stay here all day if you like? Or you can just answer a few questions, and we’ll get out of your hair.”

Seth finally pulled open the door. His concerned eyes flicked between the two of us. "You don't look like cops."

I flashed my badge faster than he could blink.

Seth was a short, scrawny guy with rust-colored hair, freckles, and hazel eyes. He wore a T-shirt and jeans.

"I already told the police everything I know,” he said. “What does it matter now, anyway? Lucas is dead. He killed himself. Are you people happy?”

"Did Lucas admit the murder to you?"

Seth's face tensed. "No. He didn't come right out and say it. But he was acting strange that night. Knocked on my door and told me to tell the cops that he was with me all night if they came around asking questions. I told him hell no, I'm not gonna lie. That's like obstruction or something, isn't it? You can go to jail for something like that, right?"