today.”
“The hot lab is where they keep the radioactive stuff?” Bosch asked.
“Yes. Kent had access through security to just about all of them in the county. We have to figure out if he was inside any of them today.”
Bosch knew that he could probably narrow the search down to one medical facility. Saint Agatha’s Clinic for Women. Kent was wearing an ID tag from the hospital when he was murdered. Walling and Brenner didn’t know that but Bosch decided not to tell them yet. He sensed the investigation was moving away from him and he wanted to hold on to what might be the one piece of inside information he still had.
“What about the LAPD?” he asked instead.
“The LAPD?” Brenner said, jumping on the question ahead of Walling. “You mean what about you, Bosch? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Where do I stand in this?”
Brenner spread his hands in a gesture of openness.
“Don’t worry, you’re in. You’re with us all the way.”
The federal agent nodded like it was a promise as good as gold.
“Good,” Bosch said. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.”
He looked at Walling for confirmation of her partner’s statement. But she looked away.
FOUR
WHEN ALICIA KENT FINALLY CAME OUT of the master bedroom she had brushed her hair and washed her face but had put on only the white robe. Bosch now saw how attractive she was. Small and dark and exotic-looking in some way. He guessed that taking her husband’s name had hidden a bloodline from somewhere far away. Her black hair had a luminescent quality to it. It framed an olive face that was beautiful and sorrowful at the same time.
She noticed Brenner and he nodded and introduced himself. Alicia Kent seemed so dazed by what was happening that she showed no recognition of Brenner in the way that she had remembered Walling. Brenner directed her to the couch and told her to sit down.
“Where is my husband?” she demanded, this time with a voice that was stronger and calmer than before. “I want to know what is going on.”
Rachel sat down next to her, ready to console if necessary. Brenner took a chair near the fireplace. Bosch remained standing. He never liked to be sitting down all cozy when he delivered this sort of news.
“Mrs. Kent,” Bosch said, taking the lead in a proprietary effort to keep his hold of the case. “I am a homicide detective. I am here because earlier tonight we found the body of a man we believe to be your husband. I am very sorry to tell you this.”
Her head dropped forward as she received the news, then her hands came up and they covered her face. A shudder went through her body and the sound of a helpless moan came from behind her hands. Then she started to cry, deep sobs that shook her shoulders so much that she had to lower her hands to hold the robe from coming open. Walling reached over and put a hand on the back of her neck.
Brenner offered to get her a glass of water and she nodded. While he was gone Bosch studied the woman and saw the tears streaking her cheeks. It was dirty work, telling someone that their loved one was dead. He had done it hundreds of times but it wasn’t something you ever got used to or even good at. It had also been done to him. When his own mother was murdered more than forty years before, he got the news from a cop just after he climbed out of a swimming pool at a youth hall. His response was to jump back in and try to never come back up.
Brenner delivered the water, and the brand-new widow drank half of it down. Before anyone could ask a question there was a knock on the door and Bosch stepped over and let in two paramedics carrying big equipment boxes. Bosch moved out of the way while they came forward to assess the woman’s physical condition. He signaled Walling and Brenner into the kitchen, where they could confer in whispers. He realized that they should have talked about this earlier.
“So how do you want to handle her?” Bosch asked.
Brenner spread his hands wide again as though he was open to suggestions. It appeared to be his signature gesture.
“I think you keep the lead,” the agent said. “We’ll step in when needed. If you don’t like that we could-”
“No, that’s good. I’ll keep the lead.”
He looked at Walling, waiting for an objection, but she was fine with it, too. He turned to leave the kitchen but Brenner stopped him.
“Bosch, I want to be up front with you,” Brenner said.
Bosch turned back.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I had you checked out. The word is you-”
“What do you mean you checked me out? You asked questions about me?”
“I needed to know who we’re working with. All I knew about you prior to this is what I’d heard about Echo Park. I wanted-”
“If you have any questions you can ask me.”
Brenner raised his hands, palms out.
“Fair enough.”
Bosch left the kitchen and stood in the living room, waiting for the paramedics to finish with Alicia Kent. One of the medical men was putting some sort of cream on the chafe marks on her wrists and ankles. The other was taking a blood-pressure reading. Bosch saw that bandages had been placed on her neck and one wrist, apparently covering wounds that he hadn’t noticed before.
His phone buzzed and Bosch went back into the kitchen to take the call. He noticed that Walling and Brenner were gone, apparently having slipped into another part of the house. It made Bosch anxious. He didn’t know what they were looking for or up to.
The call was from his partner. Ferras had finally made it to the crime scene.
“Is the body still there?” Bosch asked.
“No, the ME just cleared the scene,” Ferras said. “I think Forensics is finishing up, too.”
Bosch updated him on the direction the case appeared to be going, telling him about the federal involvement and the potentially dangerous materials Stanley Kent had had access to. He then directed him to start knocking on doors and looking for witnesses who might have seen or heard something relating to the killing of Stanley Kent. He knew it was a long shot, because no one had called 9-1-1 after the shooting.
“Should I do that now, Harry? It’s the middle of the night and people are slee-”
“Yes, Ignacio, you should do it now.”
Bosch wasn’t worried about waking people up. There was a good chance that the generator that powered the crime scene lights had awakened the neighborhood anyway. But the canvassing of the neighborhood had to be done and it was always better to find witnesses sooner rather than later.
When Bosch came out of the kitchen the paramedics had packed up and were leaving. They told Bosch that Alicia Kent was physically fine, with minor wounds and skin abrasions. They also said they had given her a pill to help calm her and a tube of the cream to continue to apply to the chafe marks on her wrists and ankles.
Walling was sitting on the couch next to her again and Brenner was back in his seat by the fireplace.
Bosch sat down on the chair directly across the glass coffee table from Alicia Kent.
“Mrs. Kent,” he began, “we are very sorry for your loss and the trauma you have been through. But it is very urgent that we move quickly with the investigation. In a perfect world we would wait until you were ready to talk to us. But it’s not a perfect world. You know that better than we do now. We need to ask you questions about what happened here tonight.”
She folded her arms across her chest and nodded that she understood.
“Then let’s get started,” Bosch said. “Can you tell us what happened?”
