The Drop (9 page)
Her face showed the pain of his betrayal.
“Harry, how can you say that to me? I was your partner. You saved my life once and you think I would repay you by putting you into something that would compromise you?”
“I don’t know, Kiz. I’m just trying to do my job here and it seems like there’s a lot of high jingo on it.”
“There is, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching out for you. The chief told you he wasn’t looking to cook the book on this. I’m not either. All I wanted was an update and now all of this . . . bile comes out.”
Bosch realized his anger and frustrations were misdirected.
“Kiz, if that’s the way it is, then I believe you. And I’m sorry to take it out on you. I should’ve known anything with Irving attached was going to go this way. Just keep him off me until we get an autopsy. After that, we’ll be able to draw some conclusions and you and the chief will be the first to know.”
“Okay, Harry. I’m sorry, too.”
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
Bosch was about to step away when he changed direction and came back to her. He gave her a one-armed hug.
“Are we okey?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said.
“How’s your shoulder? I saw you switch hands with your case.”
“It’s fine.”
“What’s wrong with Maddie?”
“She’s got a bug, that’s all.”
“Tell her I said hi.”
“I will. See you, Kiz.”
He left her then and headed home. As he moved in slow traffic on the 101, he wasn’t feeling good about either of the cases he was working. And he was upset that those feelings had made him act poorly with Rider. Most cops would cherish having an inside source in the OCP. At times he certainly had. But he had just treated her badly and had no legitimate excuse. He would have to make it up to her.
He was also bothered by Dr. Stone and the way he had arrogantly dismissed her cause. In many ways, she was doing more than he was. Trying to stop crimes before they happened. Trying to save people from becoming victims. He had treated her like a sympathizer of the predators and he knew that was not the case. It was a city where not enough people cared about making it a better and safer place to live. She did and he had dismissed her. Shame on me, he thought.
He pulled his phone and called his daughter’s cell.
“You doing okay?”
“Yeah. I’m feeling better.”
“Did Ashlyn’s mom check on you?”
“Yes, they both came by after school and brought me a cupcake.”
That morning Bosch had e-mailed her best friend’s mother to ask for the favor.
“Did they bring you your homework?”
“Yes, but I’m not feeling that much better. Did you get a case? You never called today, so I’m thinking you did.”
“Sorry about that. Actually, I got two cases.”
He noted her skill in changing the subject from homework.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, so I’m going to be a little late. I’ve got one more stop and then I’ll be home. You want soup from Jerry’s Deli? I’m going to be up in the Valley.”
“Chicken noodle.”
“You got it. Make a sandwich if you get hungry before I get back. And make sure the door’s locked.”
“I know, Dad.”
“And you know where the Glock is.”
“Yes, I know where it is and I know how to use it.”
“Okay, that’s my girl.”
He closed the phone.
I
t took him forty-five minutes in rush-hour traffic to get back to Panorama City. He cruised by the Buena Vista apartments and saw lights on behind the shaded windows he believed belonged to the office he had been in earlier. He also saw a driveway on the side of the building that led to a fenced parking area in the rear. There was a no trespassing sign on the gate and it was topped with barbed wire.
At the next corner he turned left and soon came to an alley that would take him behind the row of apartment buildings that fronted Woodman. He came to the fenced parking lot behind the Buena Vista and pulled to the side of the alley next to a green trash bin. He surveyed the well-lit lot and noted the eight-foot security fence that surrounded it. It was topped with three strands of barbed wire. There was a walk-through gate for accessing the trash bin but it was padlocked and also topped with barbed wire. It appeared to be a fully secured compound.
There were only three cars in the lot. One of them was a white four-door with what looked like paint damage on its side. He studied the car and soon realized the damage was actually fresh paint. A bad match of flat white paint had been sprayed on the driver’s side doors to cover the graffiti. He knew it was Dr. Stone’s car and that she was still at work inside. He noted that graffiti had also been white-washed along the back wall of the building. A ladder was leaning against the wall next to a door marked with the same sort of warning signs he had seen up front earlier in the day.
Bosch turned off his car and got out.
Twenty minutes later he was leaning on the back of the white car in the lot when the rear door of the apartment building opened and Dr. Stone emerged. She was escorted by a man and they both stopped short when they saw Bosch. The man took a protective step in front of Stone but then she put her hand on his arm.
“It’s okay, Rico. He’s the detective who was here earlier.”
She continued walking toward her car. Bosch stood up straight.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to talk to you.”
This last part slowed her down as she considered it. She then turned to her escort.
“Thank you, Rico. I’ll be all right with Detective Bosch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Rico headed back to the door and used a key to open it. Stone waited until he was back in the building before addressing Bosch.
“Detective, what are you doing? How did you get back here?”
“I got back here the same way the gangbangers with the paint did. You have a security problem.”
He pointed through the fence to the green trash bin.
“Kind of defeats the purpose of the fence when you have a Dumpster pushed up against it like that. Gives them a climbing platform. If I could get over at my age, it would be a piece of cake for those fifteen-year-olds.”
Her mouth opened slightly as she looked at the fence line, and the obvious dawned on her. She then looked at Bosch.
“You came back just to check the security of our parking lot?”
“No, I came back to apologize.”
“For what?”
“The attitude. You’re trying to do a good thing here and I acted as though you were part of the problem. I’m sorry for that.”
She was clearly taken aback.
“I still can’t tell you about Clayton Pell.”
“I know. That’s not why I’m here. I’m already punched out for the day.”
She pointed to the Mustang on the other side of the fence.
“Is that your car? How are you going to get back to it?”
“It’s mine. Now, if I were a TW boy I’d take that ladder you’ve conveniently provided and climb back over. But climbing in was enough for me. I’m hoping you’ll just unlock the padlock on that gate and let me out.”
She smiled and it was disarming. A few strands of her carefully pulled-back hair had come loose and were framing her face.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a key to that gate. I wouldn’t mind seeing you make that climb but why don’t I just drive you around?”
“Sounds good.”
He got into the passenger side of her car and they drove out through the gate and onto Woodman.
“Who is Rico?” Bosch asked.
“He’s our overnight orderly,” Stone said. “Works six to six.”
“Is he from the neighborhood?”
“Yes, but he’s a good kid. We trust him. Anything happens or anybody acts up, he calls me or the director right away.”
“Good.”
They came down the alley and she stopped behind his car.
“The problem is, the trash bin is on wheels,” she said. “We can push it away from the fence but they can push it right back.”
“Can’t you expand that gate and keep it inside the compound?”
“If we put that in the budget, we’ll probably get it approved in about three years.”
Bosch nodded. Every bureaucracy was in budget crisis.
“Have Rico take the lid off the Dumpster. Then they’ll have nothing to stand on. It might make a difference.”
She nodded.
“Might be worth a try.”
“And keep having Rico walk you out.”
“Oh, I do. Every night.”
He nodded and put his hand on the door handle. He decided to go with his instincts. He had seen no ring on her finger.
“Where’s home from here, north or south?”
“Oh, south. I live in North Hollywood.”
“Well, I’m heading to Jerry’s Deli to pick up some chicken noodle soup for my daughter. You want to meet me there and maybe get something to eat?”
She hesitated. He could see her eyes in the dim light from the dash.
“Um, Detective . . .”
“You can call me Harry.”
“Harry, I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”
“Really? Why? I’m talking about a quick sandwich. I have to bring soup home.”
“Well, because . . .”
She paused and then started laughing.
“What?”
“I don’t know. Never mind. Yes, I’ll meet you there.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
He got out of the car and headed to his own. The whole way to Jerry’s he kept checking the rearview mirror. She was following him and he half expected her to suddenly take a screaming turn to the left or right when she changed her mind.
But she never did and soon they were sitting across from each other in a booth. In the well-lit deli he noticed her eyes for the first time. There was a sadness in them he had not noticed before. Maybe it was from the work. She dealt with the lowest form of human life. The predators. Those who took advantage of the smaller and the weaker. Those the rest of society couldn’t stand to look at.
“How old is your daughter?”
“Fifteen going on thirty.”
She smiled.
“She’s home sick from school today and I barely got the chance to check in on her. It’s been a busy day.”
“It’s just you and her?”
“Yes. Her mother—my ex—died a couple years ago. I went from living alone to trying to raise a thirteen-year-old. It’s been . . . interesting.”
“I bet.”
He smiled.
“The truth is, I’ve loved every minute of it. It’s changed my life for the better. I just don’t know if she’s better off.”
“But there’s no other choice, is there?”
“No, that’s the thing. She’s stuck with me.”
“I’m sure she’s happy, even if she doesn’t express it. It’s hard to read teenage girls.”
“Yeah.”
He checked his watch. He felt guilty now that he had put himself first. He wouldn’t get home till at least eight thirty with the soup. The waiter came and asked for their drink order and Bosch told him that they needed to order everything to save time. Stone ordered half a turkey sandwich. Bosch ordered a whole turkey sandwich and the soup to go.
“What about you?” he asked when they were left alone.
Stone told him she had been divorced for over ten years and had had only one serious relationship in the time since. She had a grown son who lived up in the San Francisco area and she rarely saw him. She was pretty much dedicated to her job at the Buena Vista, where she had worked for four years after a midlife change in direction. She went from being a therapist who specialized in treating narcissistic professionals to retooling for a year in school before treating sex offenders.
Bosch got the idea that her decision to change her professional life and work with the most hated members of society was some sort of penance but he didn’t know her well enough to go further with his suspicion. It was a mystery he would have to wait to solve, if he got the chance.
“Thank you for what you said back in the parking lot,” she said. “Most cops, they just think these people should be taken out and shot.”
“Well . . . not without a trial.”
He smiled but she didn’t see the humor in it.
“Every one of these men is a mystery. I’m a detective like you. I try to find out what happened to them. People aren’t natural-born predators. Please don’t tell me you believe that.”
Bosch hesitated.
“I don’t know. I sort of come in after the fact to clean things up. All I know is that there is evil out there in the world. I’ve seen it. I’m just not sure where it comes from.”
“Well, my job is to find that out. Find out what happened to these people that put them on this path. If I can find it out, I can help them. If I help them, then I am helping the cause of society. Most police don’t get that. But you, what you said tonight, I think maybe you do.”
Bosch nodded but felt guilty about what he was hiding from her. She read it right away.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He shook his head, embarrassed at the easy read.
“Listen, I want to level with you about today.”
Her stare turned hard. It was as though she realized the dinner invitation had been some sort of a setup.
“Wait, it’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t lie to you today but I didn’t tell you the whole story about Pell. You know the case I’m working? With Pell’s DNA on the victim? It’s twenty-two years old.”
The suspicion on her face was quickly replaced with bewilderment.
“I know,” he said. “Doesn’t make sense. But it is what it is. His blood was found on a girl murdered twenty-two years ago.”
“That would’ve made him eight years old. That’s impossible.”
“I know. We’re looking at a possible screwup in the pipeline—the lab work. I’m checking that out tomorrow but I also had to get a look at Pell because until I learned from you he was a homosexual predator, he made the perfect suspect—if he had access to a time machine or something.”
The waiter came with their food and the soup in a container in a bag. Bosch said he’d take the check right away so he could pay and they’d be able to go as soon as they were finished eating.
“What do you want from me?” Stone asked when they were alone again.
