took Burkhart and a woman identified as Belinda Messier into custody.
They were now waiting to be interviewed at Parker Center and Bosch and Rider drew that assignment from Pratt.
But as they turned to walk up the slope of the freeway exit to Rider’s car, Pratt asked them to hold up. He then huddled with them and spoke so no one else remaining at the scene could hear.
“I guess I don’t have to tell you two that we’re going to get some heat on this,” he said.
“We know,” Rider said.
“I don’t know what form the review will take but I think you can count on a review,” Pratt said.
“We’ll be ready,” Rider said.
“You might want to talk about that on the way downtown,” Pratt suggested. “Make sure everybody’s on the same page.”
Bosch knew Pratt was telling them to get their story straight so that it could be presented in unison and in the light that served them best, even if they were interviewed separately.
“We’ll be all right,” Rider said.
Pratt glanced at Bosch and then looked away, back at the tow truck.
“I know,” Bosch said. “I’m a boot. If somebody takes a fall for this it will be me. That’s okay. The whole thing was my idea.”
“Harry,” Rider said. “That’s not -”
“It was my plan,” Bosch said, cutting her off. “I’m the one.”
“Well, you might not have to be the one,” Pratt said. “The sooner we get this thing put together the better off we’ll be. Success makes a lot of bad shit go away. So let’s close this fucker by breakfast.”
“You got it, Boss,” Rider said.
As Bosch and Rider headed up the slope they didn’t speak.
33
PARKER CENTER WAS DESERTED when they arrived. Though several investigative units operated from the headquarters building, it was primarily filled each day with command staff and support services. It didn’t come alive until after sunup. In the elevator Bosch and Rider split up, Bosch going directly to the Robbery-Homicide Division on the third floor to relieve Kehoe and Bradshaw, while Rider made a stop by the Open-Unsolved office to pick up the file she had put together earlier on William Burkhart.
“See you in a few,” she said to Bosch as he stepped off. “I hope Kehoe and Bradshaw made some coffee.”
Bosch turned the corner out of the elevator alcove and headed down the hallway to the double doors of RHD. A voice from behind stopped him.
“What did I tell you about retreads?”
Bosch turned. It was Irving, coming from the opposite hallway. There was nothing down that way but computer services. Bosch guessed that he had been waiting in the hallway. He tried not to show surprise that Irving apparently already knew about what had happened on the freeway.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I wanted to get an early start. It’s going to be a big day.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right. And I’ll give you fair warning. In the morning the media will be alerted to this middle-of-the-night fuckup of yours. The reporters will be told how you used this man Mackey as bait, only to let him be killed in a most horrible way. They will ask questions about how a retired detective could have been allowed back into the department to do this. But don’t worry. These questions will most likely be addressed to the chief of police who set it all in motion.”
Bosch laughed and shook his head, acting as though he didn’t feel the threat.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“I will also be urging the commander of the Internal Affairs Division to open an investigation into how you conducted this investigation, Detective Bosch. I wouldn’t get too used to being back.”
Bosch took a step toward Irving, hoping to turn some of the threat back at him.
“Good, Chief, you do that. I hope you also prepare the commander for what I will be telling his investigators as well as the reporters about your own culpability in all of this.”
There was a long pause before Irving bit.
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
“This man you’re so worried about being used as bait was cut loose by you seventeen years ago, Chief. Cut loose so you could make your deal with Richard Ross. Mackey should’ve been in jail. Instead he used the gun from one of his little burglaries to kill an innocent sixteen-year-old girl.”
Bosch waited but Irving didn’t say anything.
“That’s right,” Bosch said. “I might have Roland Mackey’s blood on my hands but you’ve got Rebecca Verloren’s on yours. You want to go to the media and IAD with it? Fine, take your best shot and we’ll see how it all comes out.”
A pinched look formed in Irving ’s eyes. He took a step toward Bosch until their faces were only inches apart.
“You are wrong, Bosch. All of those kids back then, they were cleared of involvement in Verloren.”
“Yeah, how? Who cleared them? Green and Garcia sure didn’t. They were pushed away from them by you. Just like the girl’s father. You and one of your dogs scared him away from it, too.”
Bosch pointed a finger at his chest.
“You let murderers walk so you could keep your little deal intact.”
An urgency entered Irving ’s voice when he responded.
“You are completely wrong on this,” he said. “Do you really think that we would let murderers walk?”
Bosch shook his head, stepped back and almost laughed.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Listen to me, Bosch. We checked alibis on every last one of those boys. They were all clean. For some of them,
“So you pushed him down, right, Chief? Pushed him into a hole.”
“Things had to be done. The city was very tense back then. We couldn’t have her father running around saying things that weren’t true.”
“Don’t give me that good-of-the-community bullshit, Chief. You had your deal, that’s all you cared about. You had Ross and IAD in your pocket and you wanted to keep it that way. Only you were dead wrong. The DNA proves it. Mackey was good for Verloren and your investigation was for shit.”
“No, wait just a minute. It only proves one thing. That he had the gun. I read the story you planted in the paper today, too. The DNA connects him to the gun, not to the murder.”
Bosch waved him off. He knew there was no sense going back and forth with Irving. His only hope was that his own threat to go to the media and IAD would neutralize Irving ’s threat. He believed they were at a stalemate.
“Who checked the alibis?” he asked calmly.
Irving didn’t answer.
“Let me guess. McClellan. He’s got his prints all over this.”
Again Irving didn’t answer. It was like he had drifted off into the memory of seventeen years before.
“Chief, I want you to call your dog. I know he still works for you. Tell him I want to know about the alibis. I want details. I want reports. I want everything he’s got by seven a.m. today or that’s it. We do what we have to do and we see where the chips fall.”
Bosch was about to turn away when Irving finally spoke.
“There are no alibi reports,” he said. “There never would have been any.”
