“Have Rico take the lid off the Dumpster. Then they’ll have nothing to stand on. It might make a difference.”
She nodded.
“Might be worth a try.”
“And keep having Rico walk you out.”
“Oh, I do. Every night.”
He nodded and put his hand on the door handle. He decided to go with his instincts. He had seen no ring on her finger.
“Where’s home from here, north or south?”
“Oh, south. I live in North Hollywood.”
“Well, I’m heading to Jerry’s Deli to pick up some chicken noodle soup for my daughter. You want to meet me there and maybe get something to eat?”
She hesitated. He could see her eyes in the dim light from the dash.
“Um, Detective . . .”
“You can call me Harry.”
“Harry, I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”
“Really? Why? I’m talking about a quick sandwich. I have to bring soup home.”
“Well, because . . .”
She paused and then started laughing.
“What?”
“I don’t know. Never mind. Yes, I’ll meet you there.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
He got out of the car and headed to his own. The whole way to Jerry’s he kept checking the rearview mirror. She was following him and he half expected her to suddenly take a screaming turn to the left or right when she changed her mind.
But she never did and soon they were sitting across from each other in a booth. In the well-lit deli he noticed her eyes for the first time. There was a sadness in them he had not noticed before. Maybe it was from the work. She dealt with the lowest form of human life. The predators. Those who took advantage of the smaller and the weaker. Those the rest of society couldn’t stand to look at.
“How old is your daughter?”
“Fifteen going on thirty.”
She smiled.
“She’s home sick from school today and I barely got the chance to check in on her. It’s been a busy day.”
“It’s just you and her?”
“Yes. Her mother—my ex—died a couple years ago. I went from living alone to trying to raise a thirteen- year-old. It’s been . . . interesting.”
“I bet.”
He smiled.
“The truth is, I’ve loved every minute of it. It’s changed my life for the better. I just don’t know if she’s better off.”
“But there’s no other choice, is there?”
“No, that’s the thing. She’s stuck with me.”
“I’m sure she’s happy, even if she doesn’t express it. It’s hard to read teenage girls.”
“Yeah.”
He checked his watch. He felt guilty now that he had put himself first. He wouldn’t get home till at least eight thirty with the soup. The waiter came and asked for their drink order and Bosch told him that they needed to order everything to save time. Stone ordered half a turkey sandwich. Bosch ordered a whole turkey sandwich and the soup to go.
“What about you?” he asked when they were left alone.
Stone told him she had been divorced for over ten years and had had only one serious relationship in the time since. She had a grown son who lived up in the San Francisco area and she rarely saw him. She was pretty much dedicated to her job at the Buena Vista, where she had worked for four years after a midlife change in direction. She went from being a therapist who specialized in treating narcissistic professionals to retooling for a year in school before treating sex offenders.
Bosch got the idea that her decision to change her professional life and work with the most hated members of society was some sort of penance but he didn’t know her well enough to go further with his suspicion. It was a mystery he would have to wait to solve, if he got the chance.
“Thank you for what you said back in the parking lot,” she said. “Most cops, they just think these people should be taken out and shot.”
“Well . . . not without a trial.”
He smiled but she didn’t see the humor in it.
“Every one of these men is a mystery. I’m a detective like you. I try to find out what happened to them. People aren’t natural-born predators. Please don’t tell me you believe that.”
Bosch hesitated.
“I don’t know. I sort of come in after the fact to clean things up. All I know is that there is evil out there in the world. I’ve seen it. I’m just not sure where it comes from.”
“Well, my job is to find that out. Find out what happened to these people that put them on this path. If I can find it out, I can help them. If I help them, then I am helping the cause of society. Most police don’t get that. But you, what you said tonight, I think maybe you do.”
Bosch nodded but felt guilty about what he was hiding from her. She read it right away.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He shook his head, embarrassed at the easy read.
“Listen, I want to level with you about today.”
Her stare turned hard. It was as though she realized the dinner invitation had been some sort of a setup.
“Wait, it’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t lie to you today but I didn’t tell you the whole story about Pell. You know the case I’m working? With Pell’s DNA on the victim? It’s twenty-two years old.”
The suspicion on her face was quickly replaced with bewilderment.
“I know,” he said. “Doesn’t make sense. But it is what it is. His blood was found on a girl murdered twenty- two years ago.”
“That would’ve made him eight years old. That’s impossible.”
“I know. We’re looking at a possible screwup in the pipeline—the lab work. I’m checking that out tomorrow but I also had to get a look at Pell because until I learned from you he was a homosexual predator, he made the perfect suspect—if he had access to a time machine or something.”
The waiter came with their food and the soup in a container in a bag. Bosch said he’d take the check right away so he could pay and they’d be able to go as soon as they were finished eating.
“What do you want from me?” Stone asked when they were alone again.
“Nothing. What do you mean?”
“Are you hoping I’ll reveal privileged information in exchange for half a turkey sandwich?”
Bosch couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not.
“No. I just thought . . . there was just something I liked about you. I was out of line today. That’s all.”
She was quiet for a long moment while she ate. He didn’t push things. Bringing up his case seemed to put a freeze on everything.
“There’s something there,” she said. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“Look, don’t compromise yourself. I pulled his files from Probation and Parole today. All his psychologicals will be in there.”
She smirked with her mouth full.
“You’re talking about PSIs and parole evaluations. They only go skin-deep.”
