“It will all be over soon and we’ll be back to normal.”
“I hope so.”
She touched his arm, which crossed her body beneath her breasts. The touch of her fingertips was the approval he sought. It told him this was a rough spot but they were okay. He held her tighter, kissed the back of her neck and then let her go.
Cielo watched the slowly moving mobile that hung over the changing table as he put a new diaper on her tiny body. Cardboard stars and half moons hung from threads. Raymond had made it with Graciela as a Christmas present. An air current from somewhere in the house gently turned it and Cielo’s dark blue eyes focused on it. McCaleb bent down and kissed her forehead.
After wrapping her in two baby blankets he took her out to the porch and gave her the bottle while gently moving in the rocking chair. Looking down at the harbor he noticed he had left on the instrument lights on The Following Sea’s bridge. He knew he could call the harbor master on the pier and whoever was working nights could just motor over and turn them off. But he knew he’d be going back to the boat after dinner. He would get the lights then.
He looked down at Cielo. Her eyes were closed but he knew she was awake. She was working the bottle forcefully. Graciela had stopped full-time breastfeeding when she had gone back to work. Bottle feedings were new and he found them to be perhaps the single most pleasurable moments of being a new father. He often whispered to his daughter during these times. Promises mostly. Promises that he would always love her and be with her. He told her never to be afraid or feel alone. Sometimes when she would suddenly open her eyes and look at him, he sensed that she was communicating the same things back to him. And he felt a kind of love he had never known before.
“Terry.”
He looked up at Graciela’s whisper.
“Dinner’s ready.”
He checked the bottle and saw it was almost empty.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he whispered.
After Graciela left them he looked down at his daughter. The whispering had made her open her eyes. She stared up at him. He kissed her on the forehead and then just held her gaze.
“I have to do this, baby,” he whispered.
The boat was cold inside. McCaleb turned on the salon lights and then positioned the space heater in the center of the room and turned it on low. He wanted to warm up but not too much, for then he might get sleepy. He was still tired from the exertions of the day.
He was down in the front cabin going through his old files when he heard the cell phone start to chirp from his leather bag up in the salon. He closed the file he was studying and took it with him as he bounded up the stairs to the salon and grabbed the phone out of his bag. It was Jaye Winston.
“So how’d it go at the Getty? I thought you were going to call me back.”
“Oh, well it ran late and I wanted to get back to the boat and get across before dark. I forgot to call.”
“You’re back on the island?”
She sounded disappointed.
“Yeah, I told Graciela this morning I’d be back. But don’t worry, I’m still working on a few things.”
“What happened at the Getty?”
“Nothing much,” he lied. “I talked to a couple people and looked at some paintings.”
“You see any owls that match ours?”
She laughed as she asked the question.
“A couple close ones. I got some books I want to look through tonight. I was going to call you, see if maybe we could get together tomorrow.”
“When? I’ve got a meeting in the morning at ten and another at eleven.”
“I was thinking the afternoon anyway. There’s something I have to do in the morning myself.”
He didn’t want to tell her that he wanted to watch the opening statements in the Storey trial. He knew they’d be carried live on Court TV, which he got up at the house with the satellite dish.
“Well, I could probably get a chopper to take me out there but I’ll have to check with aero first.”
“No, I’ll be coming back over.”
“You will? Great! You want to come here?”
“No, I was thinking about something more quiet and private.”
“How come?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Getting mysterious on me. This isn’t a scam to get the sheriff’s to pay for pancakes again, is it?”
They both laughed.
“No scam. Any chance you could come out to Cabrillo and meet me at my boat?”
“I’ll be there. What time?”
He made the appointment for three o’clock thinking that would give him plenty of time to prepare a profile and figure out how he would tell her what he had to say. It would also give him enough time to be ready for what he hoped she would allow him to do that night.
“Anything on the owl?” he asked once they had the meeting arranged.
“Very little, none of it good. Inside there are manufacturing markings. The plastic mold was made in China. The company ships them to two distributors over here, one in Ohio and one in Tennessee. From there they probably go all over. It’s a long shot and a lot of work.”
“So you’re going to drop it.”
“No, I didn’t say that. It’s just not a priority. It’s on my partner’s plate. He’s got calls out. We’ll see what he gets from the distributors, evaluate and decide where to go from there.”
McCaleb nodded. Prioritizing investigative leads and even investigations themselves was a necessary evil. But it still bothered him. He was sure the owl was a key and knowing everything about it would be useful.
“Okay, so we’re all set?” she asked.
“About tomorrow? Yeah, we’re set.”
“We’ll see you at three.”
“We?”
“Kurt and I. My partner. You haven’t met him yet.”
“Uh, look, tomorrow could it just be me and you? Nothing against your partner but I’d just like to talk to you tomorrow, Jaye.”
There was a moment of silence before she responded.
“Terry, what’s going on with you?”
“I just want to talk to you about this. You brought me in, I want to give what I have to you. If you want to bring your partner in on it after, that’s fine.”
There was another pause.
“I’m getting a bad vibe from all of this, Terry.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s the way I want it. I guess you have to take it or leave it.”
His ultimatum made her go silent even longer this time. He waited for her.
“All right, man,” she finally said. “It’s your show. I’ll take it.”
“Thanks, Jaye. I’ll see you then.”
They hung up. He looked at the old case file he had pulled and still held in his hand. He put the phone down on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch and opened the file.
Chapter 14
At first they called it the Little Girl Lost case because the victim had no name. The victim was thought to be about fourteen or fifteen years old; a Latina – probably Mexican – whose body was found in the bushes and among the debris below one of the overlooks off Mulholland Drive. The case belonged to Bosch and his partner at the time, Frankie Sheehan. This was before Bosch worked homicide out of Hollywood Division. He and Sheehan were a Robbery-Homicide team and it had been Bosch who contacted McCaleb at the bureau. McCaleb was newly returned to Los Angeles from Quantico. He was setting up an outpost for the Behavioral Sciences Unit and Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. The Little Girl Lost case was one of the first submitted to him.
Bosch came to him, bringing the file and the crime scene photos to his tiny office on the thirteenth floor of the federal building in Westwood. He came without Sheehan because the partners had disagreed on whether to bring the bureau in on the case. Cross-agency jealousies at work. But Bosch didn’t care about all of that. He cared about the case. He had haunted eyes. The case was clearly working on him as much as he worked on it.