It had been wiped clean. There was nothing to go on.'
'What about his clothes?'
'They were there in the trunk. No help. The killer kept one thing, though.'
'What?'
'His shield. The bastard took his badge.'
Bosch just nodded and averted his eyes. They were both silent for a long time. Bosch couldn't get the images out of his mind and he guessed Irving was having the same problem.
'So,' Bosch finally said, 'looking at what had been done to him, the torture and everything, you immediately thought of me. That's a real vote of confidence.'
'Look, Detective, you had put the man's face through a window two weeks earlier. We had gotten an added report from him that you had threatened him. What -'
'There was no threat. He -'
'I don't care if there was or wasn't. He made the report. That's the point. True or false, he made the report, therefore, he felt threatened by you. What were we supposed to do, ignore it? Just say, 'Harry Bosch? Oh, no, there's no way our own Harry Bosch could do this,' and go on? Don't be ridiculous.'
'All right, you're right. Forget it. He didn't say anything at all to his wife before leaving?'
'Only that someone called and he had to go out for an hour to a meeting with a very important person. No name was mentioned. The call came in about nine Friday night.'
'Is that exactly how she said he said it?'
'I believe so. Why?'
'Because if he said it in that way, then it sounds like two people may be involved.'
'How so?'
'It just sounds as though one person called him to set up a meeting with a second person, this very important person. If that person had made the call, then he would
have told the wife that so and so, the big important guy, just called and I have to go meet him. See what I mean?'
'I do. But whoever called could have also used the name of an important person as bait to draw Pounds out. That actual person may not have been involved at all.'
'That's also true. But I think that whatever was said, it would have to have been convincing to get Pounds out at night, by himself
'Maybe it was someone he already knew.'
'Maybe. But then he probably would have told his wife the name.'
'True.'
'Did he take anything with him? A briefcase, files, anything?'
'Not that we know of. The wife was in the TV room. She didn't see him actually go out the door. We've been over all of this with her, we've been all over the house. There's nothing. His briefcase was in his office at the station. He didn't even take it home with him. There's nothing to go on. To be honest, you were the best candidate and you're clear now. It brings me back to my question. Could what you've been doing have had anything to do with this?'
Bosch could not bring himself to tell Irving what he thought, what he knew in his gut had happened to Pounds. It wasn't the guilt that stopped him, though. It was the desire to keep his mission to himself. In that moment he realized that vengeance was a singular thing, a solo mission, something never to be spoken of out loud.
'I don't know the answer,' he said. 'I told Pounds nothing. But he wanted me to go down. You know that. The guy's dead but he was an asshole and he wanted me to go down. So he'd have had his ear to the ground for anything about me. A couple people have seen me around in the last week. Word could've gotten back to him and he
could've blundered into something. He wasn't much of an investigator. He could've made a mistake. I don't know.'
Irving looked at him through dead eyes. Bosch knew he was trying to determine how much was true and how much was bullshit. Bosch spoke first.
'He said he was going to meet someone important.'
'Yes.'
'Look, Chief, I don't know what McKittrick told you about the conversation I had out there with him, but you know there were important people involved back ... you know, with my mother. You were there.'
'Yes, I was there, but I wasn't part of the investigation, not after the first day.'
'Did McKittrick tell you about Arno Conklin?'
'Not today. But back then. I remember once when I asked him what was happening with the case, he told me to ask Arno. He said Arno was running interference for someone on it.'
'Well, Arno Conklin was an important person.'
'But now? He's an old man if he's even still alive.'
'He's alive, Chief And you have to remember something. Important men surround themselves with important men. They're never alone. Conklin may be old but there could be someone else who isn't.'
'What are you telling me, Bosch?'
'I'm telling you to leave me alone. I have to do this. I'm the only one who can. I'm telling you to keep Brockman and everybody else away from me.'
Irving stared at him a long moment and Bosch could tell he didn't know which way to go with this. Bosch stood
up.
'I'll keep in touch.'
'You're not telling me everything.'
'It's better that way.'
He stepped through the door into the hallway, remembered something and then stepped back into the room with Irving.
'How am I going to get home? You brought me here.'
Irving reached over to the phone.
Bosch went through the fifth-floor door to the Internal Affairs Division and found no one behind the counter. He waited a few moments for Toliver to show up since Irving had just ordered him to drive Bosch home, but the young IAD detective never showed. Bosch figured it was just one more mind game they were trying to play with him. He didn't want to walk around the counter and have to find Toliver so he just yelled his name out. Behind the counter was a door that was slightly ajar and he was reasonably sure Toliver heard the call.
But the person who stepped through the door was Brockman. He stared at Bosch for a long moment without saying anything.
'Look, Brockman, Toliver is supposed to run me home,' Bosch said to him. 'I don't want anything else to do with you.'
'Yeah, well, that's too bad.'
'Just get Toliver.'
'You better watch out for me, Bosch.'
'Yeah, I know. I'll be watching.'
'Yeah, and you won't see me coming.'
Bosch nodded and looked past him to the door where he expected Toliver to step out any moment. He just wanted to diffuse the situation and get his ride home. He considered walking out and catching a cab, but he knew in rush hour it would probably cost him fifty bucks. He
didn't have it on him. Plus, he liked the idea of having an IAD shine chauffeur him home.
'Hey, killer?'
Bosch looked back at Brockman. He was getting tired of this.
'What's it like to fuck another killer? Must really be something, to go all the way to Florida for it.'
Bosch tried to stay cool but he felt his face betray himself. For he suddenly knew who and what Brockman was talking about.
