Bosch started to laugh but then stopped.
“What?”
McCaleb looked at him. Bosch’s eyes were still piercing in the darkness. They had caught a speck of reflected light from somewhere and McCaleb could see the two pinpoints holding on him.
“You should’ve hung around a little longer this morning while Jaye interviewed Tafero.”
“I didn’t have the time.”
“She asked him about the Lincoln and he said it was his undercover car. He said he used it on jobs when he didn’t want there to be any chance of a trace. It has stolen plates on it. And the registration is phony.”
“Makes sense, a guy like that, having a car for the wet work.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
Bosch had finished his beer. He was leaning with his elbows on the railing. He was peeling the label off the bottle and dropping the little pieces into the darkness below.
“No, I don’t get it, Terry. Why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about?”
McCaleb picked up his beer but then put it back down without drinking any more.
“His real car, the one he used every day, is a Mercedes Four-thirty C-L-K. That was the one he caught the ticket with. For parking at the post office when he sent the money order.”
“Okay, the guy had two cars. His secret car and his show car. What does it mean?”
“It means you knew something you shouldn’t have known.”
“What are you talking about? Knew what?”
“Last night I asked you why you came onto my boat. You said you saw Tafero’s Lincoln and knew there was something wrong. How did you know that Lincoln was his?”
Bosch was silent for a long moment. He looked out into the night and nodded.
“I saved your life,” he said.
“I saved yours.”
“So we’re even. Leave it at that, Terry.”
McCaleb shook his head. It felt like there was a fist in his stomach pushing up into his chest, trying to get to his new heart.
“I think you knew that Lincoln and knew it meant trouble for me because you had watched Tafero before. Maybe on a night he was using the Lincoln. Maybe on a night he was watching Gunn and setting up the hit. Maybe on the night he made the hit. You saved my life because you knew something, Harry.”
McCaleb was quiet for a moment, giving Bosch an opportunity to say something in his defense.
“That’s a lot of maybes, Terry.”
“Yeah. A lot of maybes and one guess. My guess is that somehow you knew or you figured out back when Tafero hooked up with Storey that they would have to come after you in court. So you watched Tafero and you saw him draw the bead on Gunn. You knew what was going to happen and you let it happen.”
McCaleb took another long drink of beer and put the bottle back down on the railing.
“A dangerous game, Harry. They almost pulled it off. But I guess if I hadn’t come along you would’ve figured out some way of pointing it back at them.”
Bosch continued to stare out into the darkness and say nothing.
“The one thing I hope is that you weren’t the one who tipped Tafero that Gunn was in the tank that night. Tell me you didn’t make that call, Harry. Tell me you didn’t help get him out so they could kill him like that.”
Again Bosch said nothing. McCaleb nodded.
“You want to shake somebody’s hand, Harry, shake your own.”
Bosch dropped his gaze and looked down into the darkness below the deck. McCaleb watch him closely and saw him slowly shake his head.
“We do what we have to do,” Bosch said quietly. “Sometimes you have choices. Sometimes there is no choice, only necessity. You see things happening and you know they’re wrong but somehow they’re also right.”
He was silent for a long moment and McCaleb waited.
“I didn’t make that call,” Bosch said.
He turned and looked at McCaleb. Again McCaleb could see the shining points of light in the blackness of his eyes.
“Three people – three monsters – are gone.”
“But not that way. We don’t do it that way.”
Bosch nodded.
“What about your play, Terry? Pushing past the little brother into the office. Like you didn’t think that would start some shit. You pushed the action with that little move and you know it.”
McCaleb felt his face growing hot under Bosch’s stare. He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.
“You had your own plan, Terry. So what’s the difference?”
“The difference? If you don’t see it, then you have completely fallen. You are lost.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m lost and maybe I’ve been found. I’ll have to think about it. Meantime, why don’t you just go home now. Go back to your little island and your little girl. Hide behind what you think you see in her eyes. Pretend the world is not what you know it to be.”
McCaleb nodded. He’d said what he wanted to say. He stepped away from the railing, leaving his beer, and walked toward the door to the house. But Bosch hit him with more words as he entered the house.
“You think naming her after a girl nobody cared about or loved can make up for that lost girl? Well, you’re wrong, man. Just go home and keep dreaming.”
McCaleb hesitated in the doorway and looked back.
“Good-bye, Harry.”
“Yeah, good-bye.”
McCaleb walked through the house. When he passed the reading chair where the light was on he saw the printout of his profile of Bosch sitting on the arm of the chair. He kept going. When he got to the front door he pulled it closed behind him.
Chapter 47
Bosch stood with his arms folded on the deck railing and his head down. He thought about McCaleb’s words, both spoken and printed. They were pieces of hot shrapnel ripping through him. He felt a deep tearing of his interior lining. It felt as though something within had seized him and was pulling him into a black hole, that he was imploding into nothingness.
“What did I do?” he whispered. “What did I do?” He straightened up and saw the bottle on the railing, its label gone. He grabbed it and threw it as far as he could out into the darkness. He watched its trajectory, able to follow its flight because of moonlight reflecting off the brown glass. The bottle exploded in the brush on the rocky hillside below.
He saw McCaleb’s half-finished beer and grabbed it. He pulled his arm back, wanting to throw this one all the way to the freeway. Then he stopped. He put the bottle back on the railing and went inside.
He grabbed the printed profile off the arm of the chair and started ripping the two pages apart. He went to the kitchen, turned the water on and put the pieces into the sink. He flicked on the garbage disposal and pushed the pieces of paper into the drain. He waited until he could tell by the sound that the paper had been chewed into nothing and was gone. He turned off the disposal and just watched the water running into the drain.
Slowly, his eyes came up and he looked through the kitchen window and out through the Cahuenga Pass. The lights of Hollywood glimmered in the cut, a mirror reflection of the stars of all galaxies everywhere. He thought about all that was bad out there. A city with more things wrong than right. A place where the earth could open up beneath you and suck you into the blackness. A city of lost light. His city. It was all of that and, still, always still, a place to begin again. His city. The city of the second chance.
Bosch nodded and bent down. He closed his eyes, put his hands under the water and brought them up to his face. The water was cold and bracing, as he thought any baptism, the start of any second chance, should be.
