There was nothing and Bosch figured his partner had been calling to once again plead his case. It was not the kind of thing you would put into a voicemail.
He put the phone away and turned the father-daughter conversation more serious.
“Look, Mads, I’ve been wanting to tell you something else, too.”
“I know, you’re marrying the lady with the lipstick?”
“No, serious now, and there was no lipstick.”
“I know. What is it?”
“Well, I’m thinking about turning in my badge. Retiring. It might be time.”
She didn’t respond for a long time. He had expected an immediate and urgent demand that he trash such thoughts but to her credit she seemed to be running it through her processes and not kicking out a first and possibly wrong response.
“But why?” she finally asked.
“Well, I am thinking that I’m tailing off, you know? Like anything—athletics, shooting, playing music, even creative thinking—there’s a drop-off of skills at a certain point. And, I don’t know, but maybe I’m getting there and I should get out. I’ve seen people lose their edge and it increases the danger. I don’t want to miss the chance to see you grow up and shine at whatever you decide you want to do.”
She nodded as if in agreement but then the keen perception and disagreement came out.
“You’re thinking all of this because of one case?”
“Not just the one case but that’s a good example. I totally went the wrong way with it. I have to think that wouldn’t have happened five years ago. Even two years ago. I might be losing the edge you need to do this.”
“But sometimes you have to go the wrong way to find the right way.”
She turned in her seat to look directly at him.
“Like you told me, you make your own choices. But if I were you, I wouldn’t do anything real quick.”
“I’m not. There’s a guy out there that I have to find first. I was thinking that would be a good one to go out on.”
“But what would you do if you quit?”
“I’m not sure but I know one thing. I think I would be able to be a better father. You know, be around more.”
“That doesn’t necessarily make you a better father. Remember that.”
Bosch nodded. He sometimes had a hard time believing he was talking to a fifteen-year-old. This was one of those times.
33
On Sunday morning, Bosch dropped his daughter off at the mall in Century City. The day had been reserved a week earlier for her and her friends Ashlyn and Konner to meet at the mall at eleven and then spend the day shopping, eating and gossiping. The girls scheduled mall days once a month and targeted a different shopping center each time. This time Bosch felt the most comfortable leaving them on their own. No mall was safe from predators but he knew that security would be at its maximum on a Sunday and the Century City mall had a good record of vigilance. They had undercover officers posing as shoppers all through the place and much of the weekend security force was composed of moonlighting cops.
On most mall Sundays, Bosch would head downtown after the daughter drop and work in the deserted OU squad room. He liked the stillness of the place on the weekends and it usually brought a strong focus to his case work. But this time he wanted to stay away from the PAB. He had picked up the
Bosch guessed that the story was going to cause a stir at the PAB as well as City Hall. He would steer clear of the place until he had to go in to work the next morning.
As he drove away from the mall, Bosch pulled his phone to make sure it was on. He was surprised he had not heard from Chu, if only to deny that he was the source who had steered GoGo toward the story. He was also surprised not to have received a call from Kiz Rider. The fact that it was closing in on noon and she had not called him about the story told him one thing. That she was the story’s source and was lying low herself.
Either on her own or more likely in concert with the chief’s tacit direction, the play had been to out Irvin Irving rather than coerce his cooperation through silence. It was hard not to agree with the choice. Dangling him out there in the media, tainting him with the brush of corruption, could serve to eliminate him as a threat to the department. A lot could happen in the final month of an election campaign. Maybe the chief had decided to take his best shot now and see if the story might gather steam and affect the outcome of the election. Maybe he wanted to take the chance that Irving’s opponent would be a friend to the department rather than a compromised and coerced enemy.
It didn’t really matter to Bosch either way. It was all high jingo. But what did matter to him was that Kiz Rider, his friend and former partner, was now fully ensconced on the tenth floor as a political operative. He knew he had to keep that in mind as he had further dealings with her and that realization hit him like a deep loss.
He knew his best move at this point was to keep his own head down. He was sure now that he was marking his last days in the department. The thirty-nine months he had been so happy to receive a week ago now seemed almost like a sentence to be served. He’d take the afternoon off and steer clear of the PAB and everything else about the job.
While he had the phone out he took a flier and called Hannah Stone’s cell. She answered right away.
“Hannah, are you at home or work?”
“Home. No therapy on Sundays. What’s up? Did you find Chilton Hardy?”
There was an excited tone of anticipation in her voice.
“Uh, no, not yet. But he’ll be the priority starting tomorrow. Actually, I was calling because I sort of have the afternoon free. Until I pick my daughter up around five at the mall. I thought if you were off and had the day free, we could have lunch or something. I want to talk about things. You know, see if we can’t find a way to try this.”
The truth was, Bosch couldn’t quite dismiss her. He had always been drawn to women hiding tragedy behind their eyes. He had been thinking about Hannah and believed that if they just set certain boundaries in regard to her son, then they might be able to carve out a chance for themselves.
“That would be great, Harry. I want to talk, too. Do you want to come here?”
Bosch checked the dash clock.
“I’m in Century City. I think I can be there by about twelve to pick you up. Maybe you can think of a place to go on Ventura Boulevard. Hell, I’m even willing to try sushi.”
She laughed and Bosch liked the sound of it.
“No, I meant come here,” she said. “For lunch and to talk. We can just stay here and be private and I can just make something. Nothing fancy.”
“Uh . . .”
“And then we’ll just see what happens.”
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
Bosch nodded to himself.
“Okay, then I’m on my way.”
34
David Chu was already in the cubicle when Bosch arrived for work Monday morning. When he saw Harry he
