woman who would back down on anything.
“We’re investigating a crime,” Bosch said. “A rape and murder. We have a description of a suspect we think might be in here. White male, twenty-eight to thirty-two years old. He’s got dark hair and his first or last name might begin with the letter C. That letter was tattooed on the suspect’s neck.”
So far, Bosch had not told a lie. The rape and murder actually happened. He just left out the part about its being twenty-two years ago. His description matched Clayton Pell to a T because Bosch had gotten the ex-convict’s descriptors off the state parole board’s computer records. And the DNA hit made Pell a suspect, no matter how unlikely it was that he was involved in the Venice Beach slaying.
“So, anybody here that meets that description?” he asked.
Stone hesitated before speaking. Bosch was hoping she wasn’t going to come to the defense of the men in her program. It didn’t matter how successful programs claimed to be, any recidivism among sexual offenders was too high.
“There is someone here,” she finally said. “But he’s made tremendous progress in the last five months. I find it hard to—”
“What’s his name?” Bosch asked, cutting her off.
“Clayton Pell. He’s out there in the circle right now.”
“How often is he allowed to leave this facility?”
“Four hours a day. He has a job.”
“A job?” Chu asked. “You just let these people loose?”
“Detective, this is not a lockdown facility. Every man here is here voluntarily. They are paroled from prison and have to register with the county and then find a place to live where they are not in violation of rules for sex offenders. We contract with the county to run a living facility that fits within those requirements. But no one has to live here. They do so because they want to assimilate back into society. They want to be productive. They don’t want to hurt anyone. If they come here, we provide counseling and job placement. We feed them and give them a bed. But the only way they can stay is if they follow our rules. We work closely with the Department of Probation and Parole and our recidivism rate is lower than the national average.”
“Which means it’s not perfect,” Bosch said. “For many of them, once a predator always a predator.”
“For some that is true. But what choice do we have but to try? When people have completed their sentences, they must be released into society. This program may be one of the best last chances of preventing future crimes.”
Bosch realized that Stone was insulted by their questions. They had made their first false move. He didn’t want this woman working against them. He wanted her cooperation.
“Sorry,” he said. “I am sure the program is worthwhile. I was just thinking about the details of the crime we’re investigating.”
Bosch stepped over to the front window and looked out into the courtyard.
“Which one is Clayton Pell?”
Stone came up next to him and pointed.
“The man with the shaved head, on the right. That’s him.”
“When did he shave his head?”
“A few weeks ago. When was the attack you’re investigating?”
Bosch turned and looked at her.
“Before that.”
She looked at him and nodded. She got the message. He was here to ask questions, not be asked.
“You said he has a job. Doing what?”
“He works for the Grande Mercado up near Roscoe. He works in the parking lot, collecting the shopping carts and emptying trash cans, that sort of thing. They pay him twenty-five dollars a day. It keeps him in cigarettes and potato chips. He’s addicted to both.”
“What are the hours he works?”
“They vary by the day. His schedule is posted at the market. Today he went to work early and just got back.”
It was good to know about the schedule being available at the market. It would help if they later wanted to pick up Pell away from the Buena Vista facility.
“Dr. Stone, is Pell one of your patients?”
She nodded.
“I have sessions with him four times a week. He works with other therapists here, too.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“I can’t tell you anything about our sessions. The doctor-patient confidentiality bond exists even in this sort of situation.”
“Yeah, I get that but the evidence in our case indicates he abducted, raped and then strangled a nineteen- year-old girl. I need to know what makes the man sitting out there in that circle tick. I need—”
“Wait a minute. Just wait.”
She put up her hand in a
“You said a nineteen-year-old
“That’s right and his DNA was found on her.”
Again, not a lie, but not the whole truth.
“That’s impossible.”
“Don’t tell me it’s impossible. The science isn’t wrong. His—”
“Well, it is this time. Clayton Pell didn’t rape a nineteen-year-old girl. First of all, he is a homosexual. And he’s a pedophile. Almost all of the men here are. They are predators convicted of crimes against children. Second, two years ago he was assaulted in prison by a group of men and he was castrated. So there is no way that Clayton Pell is your suspect.”
Bosch heard a sharp intake of breath from his partner. He, like Chu, was shocked by the doctor’s revelation as well as how it echoed the thoughts he’d had as he entered the facility.
“Clayton’s sickness is that he is obsessed with prepubescent boys,” Stone continued. “I would have thought you’d do a little homework before you came here.”
Bosch stared at her for a long moment as the burn of embarrassment colored his face. Not only had the ruse he had planned been disastrously wrong but there was now even further evidence that something was seriously amiss in the Lily Price case.
Struggling to move away from his gaffe, he blurted out a question.
“Prepubescent . . . you’re talking about eight-year-olds? Ten-year-olds? Why that age?”
“I can’t go into it,” Stone said. “You’re crossing into confidential territory.”
Bosch walked back to the window and looked out at Clayton Pell in the circle session. He was sitting up straight in his chair and looked to be closely following the conversation. He wasn’t one of those who hid his face, and there was no outward show of the trauma he had suffered.
“Does everybody in the circle know?”
“Only I know, and I made a serious breach telling you. The group sessions are of great therapeutic value to most of our residents. That’s why they come here. That’s why they stay.”
Bosch could have argued that they stayed because of the shelter and food. But he raised his hands in surrender and apology.
“Doctor, do us a favor,” he said. “Don’t tell Pell that we were here asking about him.”
“I wouldn’t. It would only upset him. If I’m asked, I will simply say you two were here to investigate the latest vandalism.”
“Sounds good. What was the latest vandalism?”
“My car. Someone spray-painted ‘I love baby rapers’ on the side. They’d like to get us out of the neighborhood, if they could. You see the man opposite Clayton in the circle? The one with the patch over his eye?”
Bosch looked and nodded.
“He was caught walking from the bus stop back to the center after coming from his job. Caught by the local gang—the T-Dub Boyz. They put his eye out with a broken bottle.”
