“Okay. Thanks, Teddy,” he said.
He was dismissing her. He wanted to get back to the photo work. He needed to find Lily.
“Do you guys need some help?” Baker said. “Gandle didn’t give us a piece of anything. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.”
She and Kehoe had been driving Hardy to the MDC for booking when Gandle had given out assignments. It was quickly becoming the kind of case everyone wanted a part of.
“I think we got this, Teddy,” Bosch said quickly before his partner could tell her to join them. “Maybe the others could use a hand with the videos.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll check with them.”
Bosch interpreted her tone to mean that she thought he was being a selfish prick. She went to the door but then turned back to them.
“You know what’s weird so far?” she asked.
“What’s weird?” Bosch responded.
“No bodies. There’s DNA in that town house. But where are all the bodies? Where did he hide them?”
“Some were found,” Bosch said. “Like Lily Price. Others he hid. That’s his last chit. By the time we’re finished with this, that’s all Hardy will have left to trade. He gives up the bodies, we give up the death penalty.”
“Think the DA will go for it?”
“I hope not.”
She left the room then and Bosch got back to work with the photos.
“Harry, what’s up?” Chu said. “We’ve got about a thousand photos still to look through.”
“I know that,” Bosch said.
“So, why couldn’t we use her? She and Kehoe are part of OU. They’re just looking for something to do.”
“I don’t know. I just think that if Lily Price is in here somewhere, then we should find her. Know what I mean?”
“I guess so.”
Bosch relented.
“Go get her. Bring her back.”
“No, that’s okay. I understand.”
They went back to work, silently looking and sorting and stacking. Such a grim duty and so many victims. If not of murder or rape, then of Hardy’s manipulations and inhumanity. Bosch had to admit to himself that it was another reason he didn’t want to bring Teddy Baker in. It didn’t matter that she was a veteran investigator who had seen everything there was to see on the underside of life. And it didn’t matter that Hardy was a predator who targeted weakness, whether the victim be male or female. Bosch would never be comfortable viewing the photos in the company of a woman. It was just the way he was.
Only twenty minutes later Bosch saw Chu stop his routine motion of checking a photo and then holding it up over his head while considering the stack he would place it on. He looked over. Chu was studying a Polaroid.
“Harry, I think . . .”
Bosch took the photo from him and looked at it. It was a shot of a young girl lying naked on a dirty blanket. Her eyes were closed and it was impossible to determine if she was alive or dead. The photo had faded over time. Bosch held it next to the yearbook photo of the smiling face of Lily Price, taken eighteen months before her death.
“You think?” Chu asked.
Bosch didn’t answer. He kept shifting his eyes from photo to photo, studying them and making minute comparisons. Chu handed him a magnifying glass he had brought from the cubicle but neither had used. Bosch put both photos down on the table and compared them under magnification. Finally he nodded and answered.
“I think you found her. We take this over to photo for digital analysis and see what they say.”
Chu pounded his fist on the table.
“We got this guy, Harry. We got him!”
Bosch put the magnifier down on the table and leaned back in his chair.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think we do.”
He then leaned forward and pointed to the stacks of photos that still had not been checked.
“Let’s keep going,” he said.
“You think there’s more?” Chu asked.
“Who knows? Maybe. But there’s also another one we should try to find.”
“Who?”
“Clayton Pell. He said Hardy took his picture, too. If he saved it, then it should be in here.”
39
Bosch gathered himself, took a final breath and punched in the number. He wasn’t even sure if the phone number would still be good after so many years. He checked one of the overhead clocks and did the math again. Three hours ahead in Ohio. It would be well after dinner but they would still be awake.
A woman picked up after three rings.
“Mrs. Price?” Bosch asked.
“Yes, who am I speaking to?”
There was an urgent tone in her voice and Bosch guessed that she had caller ID on her phone. She knew it was the police calling. Reaching across time and distance.
“Mrs. Price, this is Detective Bosch with the Los Angeles Police Department. I’m calling because there have been some developments in the investigation of your daughter’s death. I need to talk with you.”
Bosch heard the catch in her breath. Then she covered the receiver and spoke to someone else. He could not tell what she was saying.
“Mrs. Price?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I told my husband. Lily’s father. He went upstairs to get on the other line.”
“Okay, we can wait for—”
“Is this about what they’re showing on TV? We were watching the Fox channel and I had to wonder if that man they said is known as Chill was the one who took Lily.”
She was crying before she finished the question.
“Mrs. Price, can we—”
There was a click and they were joined on the line by her husband.
“This is Bill Price.”
“Mr. Price, I was telling your wife, my name is Harry Bosch. I’m a detective with the LAPD. I need to inform you about developments in the investigation of your daughter’s death.”
“Lily,” Mr. Price said.
“Yes, sir, your daughter Lily. I work in the Open-Unsolved Unit, which handles cold case homicide investigations. Last week we got a good break in the case. DNA from blood found on Lily’s body was connected to a man named Chilton Hardy. It was not his blood but it was blood that belonged to someone who knew Hardy and could connect him to the crime. I’m calling to tell you that we arrested Chilton Hardy today and we will be charging him with your daughter’s murder.”
There was only the sound of Mrs. Price weeping.
“I don’t know if there is any more to say at this point,” Bosch finally said. “The investigation is still unfolding and I will keep you posted on developments as we go forward with the prosecution. Once it is revealed that this man has been charged with your daughter’s murder, you may be contacted by the news media. It is up to you whether you want to talk to them or not. Do you have any questions for me?”
Bosch tried to imagine them in their home in Dayton. On different floors, connected by an open phone line to a man they had never met. Twenty-two years ago they had sent their daughter to Los Angeles to go to college. She never came home.
“I have a question,” Mrs. Price said. “Hold on, please.”
Bosch heard the phone being put down and then her weeping in the background. Her husband finally spoke.
