Following Bosch’s instructions, Rider called the Chevron station and started making a service appointment, going into great detail in describing the screeching her car’s brakes made. While she was in the middle of it, Bosch called the station on the second line listed in the phone book. As expected Rider was put on hold. Bosch’s call was answered and he said, “Do you have a number I can reach Ro on? He’s coming here to give me a jump and I got it started already.”
Mackey’s harried co-worker said, “Try him on his cell.”
He gave Bosch the number and Bosch flashed the thumbs-up across the desk to Rider. She finished her call without breaking the act and hung up.
“One down, one to go,” Bosch said.
“You got the easy one,” Rider said.
With Mackey’s number in hand, Rider took over while Bosch listened on an extension. Putting a disinterested bureaucratic glaze over her voice she called the number and when Mackey answered-presumably while looking for a stalled ’72 Camaro in a shopping center parking lot-she announced that she was his AT amp;T Wireless provider and that she had some exciting news for savings over his current long-distance minutes plan.
“Bullshit,” Mackey said, interrupting her in the middle of her spiel.
“Excuse me, sir?” Rider replied.
“I said bullshit. This is some sort of scam to make me switch.”
“I don’t understand, sir. I have you listed as an AT amp;T Wireless customer. Is that not the case?”
“Yeah, that’s not the fucking case. I’m with Sprint and I like it and I don’t even have or want long-distance service. So fuck off. Can you hear me now?”
He hung up and Rider started laughing.
“This is an angry guy we’re dealing with,” she said.
“Well, he just drove all the way across Chatsworth for nothing,” Bosch said. “I’d be angry too.”
“He’s with Sprint,” she said. “I’m ready to rock and roll on the paper. But maybe you should call him, so he won’t be suspicious about you not calling when the guy in the shop tells him he gave out his number.”
Bosch nodded and called Mackey’s number. Thankfully it went to a message; Mackey was probably on the phone angrily telling the guy in the shop he could not find the car he was supposed to tow. Bosch left a message saying he was sorry but he was able to get his car started and was trying to get it home. He closed his phone and looked at Rider.
They talked some more about scheduling and decided that she would work exclusively on the warrant that night and the next day and then babysit it through the approval stages. She said she wanted Bosch with her when it got to the final approval. Having both members of the team in the judge’s chambers would help cement the deal. Until then, Bosch would continue to work the field, tracking the remaining names on their list of people to be interviewed and putting the newspaper story in motion. Timing was going to be the issue. They didn’t want a story about the case in the newspaper until they had taps in place on the phones Mackey used. Finessing all of this would be the key maneuver.
“I’m going home, Harry,” Rider said. “I can get this started on my laptop.”
“Have a good one.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ve got a few things I want to get done tonight. Maybe go down to the Toy District, I think.”
“By yourself?”
“They’re only homeless people.”
“Yeah, and eighty percent of them are homeless because they’ve got faulty wiring, faulty plumbing, the whole bit. You be careful. Maybe you ought to call Central Division and see if they’ll send a car with you. Maybe they can spare the U-boat tonight.”
The U-boat was a single-officer car primarily used as a gopher for the watch commander. But Bosch didn’t think he needed a chaperone. He told Rider he would be all right and that she could go as soon as she showed him how to use the AutoTrack computer.
“Well, Harry, first you have to have a computer. I did it right from my laptop.”
He came around to her side and watched as she went to the AutoTrack website, entered password information and arrived at a template for a name search.
“Who do you want to start with?” she asked.
“How about Robert Verloren?”
She typed in the name and set parameters for the search.
“How fast does this work?” Bosch asked.
“Fast.”
In a few minutes she had located an address trail for Rebecca Verloren’s father. But it stopped short at the house in Chatsworth. Robert Verloren had not updated his driver’s license, bought property, registered to vote, applied for a credit card or had a utilities account in over ten years. He was a blank. He had disappeared-at least from the electronic grid.
“He must still be on the street,” Rider said.
“If he’s even still alive.”
Rider put the names Tara Wood and Daniel Kotchof through the AutoTrack moves and came up with multiple name hits for both of them. But by using their approximate ages and focusing on Hawaii and California they narrowed the searches to two address trails they believed belonged to the correct Tara Wood and Daniel Kotchof. Wood may not have gone to her high school reunion but it wasn’t because she had moved far away. She had only moved from the Valley over the hills to Santa Monica. Meanwhile, it appeared that Daniel Kotchof had returned from Hawaii many years earlier, lived in Venice for a few years and then returned to Maui, where his current address was located.
The last name Bosch gave Rider to run through the computer was Sam Weiss, the burglary victim whose gun was used to murder Rebecca Verloren. Though there were hundreds of hits on the name, it was easy to find the right Sam Weiss. He had never left the home where the burglary had taken place. He even had the same phone number. He had stood his ground.
Rider printed everything out for Bosch and also gave him the number for Grace Tanaka, which they had gotten earlier from Bailey Sable. She then gathered what she would need to work on the search warrant at home.
“If you need me give me a page,” she said as she put her computer into a padded case.
After she was gone Bosch checked the clock over Pratt’s door and saw it was just past six. He decided he would spend an hour or so chasing names before heading down to the Toy District to look for Robert Verloren. He knew he was just procrastinating over a search through the human throwaway zone that would be certain to leave him depressed. So he checked the clock again and promised himself he would spend no more than an hour working the phone.
He decided to go with the locals first but quickly struck out. Calls to both Tara Wood and Sam Weiss went unanswered and connected him with automated message systems. He left a message for Wood identifying himself, giving his cell phone number and mentioning that the call was in regard to Becky Verloren. He hoped that mentioning her friend’s name would be enough to intrigue and draw a response from her. With Weiss he only left his name and number, not wanting to forewarn him that the call was about what might be a source of guilt for the man who had indirectly provided the weapon that killed a sixteen-year-old girl.
Next he called Grace Tanaka’s number in Hayward and she answered after six rings. From the start she seemed put out by the call, as if it had interrupted something important, but her gruff manner and voice softened as soon as Bosch said he was calling about Rebecca Verloren.
“Oh my God, is something happening?” she asked.
“The department has taken an avid interest in reinvestigating the case,” Bosch said. “A name has come up. This is an individual who may have been involved in the case in nineteen eighty-eight and we are trying to figure out if he fit in with Becky or her friends in any way.”
“What’s his name?” she asked quickly.
“Roland Mackey. He was a couple years older than Becky. Didn’t go to Hillside but he lived right there in Chatsworth. Does the name mean anything to you?”
“Not really. I don’t remember it. How was he connected? Was he the father?”
“The father?”
