“Is there someone he’s going after?” the P2 asked.
Bosch didn’t look up from the gun box.
“Probably just himself,” he said. “Either of you guys have gloves? Mine are in the car.”
“Right here,” the P2 said.
He pulled a pair of latex gloves out of a small compartment on his equipment belt. He handed them to Bosch, who snapped them on and then picked up the bullet box. Bosch opened it and slid out a plastic tray in which the bullets were stored. There was only one bullet missing.
Bosch was staring at the space left by the missing bullet and thinking about things when Rider tapped him on the elbow. He looked at her and then followed her gaze to the table on the other side of the bed.
There was a framed photo of Rebecca Verloren. It was a shot of her standing in a green field with the Eiffel Tower behind her. She was wearing a black beret and she was smiling in an unforced way. Bosch thought the look in her eyes was sincere and showed love for the person she was looking at.
“He wasn’t in any of the pictures in the yearbook because he was the one behind the camera,” Bosch said.
Rider nodded. She, too, was in the water tunnel.
“That’s where it started,” she said. “That’s where she fell in love with him. My true love.”
They stared in somber silence for a few moments until the P2 spoke.
“Detectives, can we clear?”
“No,” Bosch said. “We need you to stay here and secure the house until SID gets here. And be ready in case he comes back.”
“You’re leaving?” the P2 asked.
“We’re leaving.”
40
THEY MOVED QUICKLY back to Bosch’s car and Rider once again got behind the wheel.
“Where to?” she said as she turned the ignition.
“The Verloren house,” Bosch said. “And let’s hurry.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’ve been thinking about the picture they ran in the paper, with Muriel sitting on the bed. It showed how the room was still the same, you know?”
Rider thought for a moment and then nodded.
“Yeah.”
Rider understood. The photo showed that Rebecca’s room was unchanged since the night she was taken. Seeing it might trigger something in Stoddard. A desire for something lost long ago. The photo was like an oasis, it was a reminder of a perfect place where nothing had gone wrong.
Rider pinned the accelerator and the car lurched forward. Bosch opened his cell, called dispatch and called for another backup unit to meet them at Muriel Verloren’s house. He also updated the bulletin on Stoddard, describing him now as armed and dangerous and possibly 5150-meaning mentally unstable. He knew as he closed the phone that he and Rider were close to the Verloren home and would get there first. His next call was to Muriel Verloren but there was no answer. When the message service picked up he closed his phone.
“No answer.”
They turned the corner onto Red Mesa Way five minutes later and Bosch’s eyes immediately locked on the silver car parked at a haphazard angle against the curb in front of the Verloren house. It was the Lexus that had come at him in the school parking lot. Rider stopped next to the car and once again they emerged quickly, with weapons ready.
The front door of the house was ajar. Using hand signals they took stances on either side of it. Bosch then pushed the door open and went in first. Rider followed and they immediately moved into the living room.
Muriel Verloren was on the floor. There was a cardboard box and other packing supplies next to her. Brown packing tape had been wrapped several times around her head and face as a gag, and used to bind her hands and ankles. Rider propped her up against the couch and held a finger up to her lips.
“Muriel, is he in the house?” she whispered.
Muriel nodded, her eyes wide and wild.
“Rebecca’s room?”
Muriel nodded again.
“Have you heard a gunshot?”
Muriel shook her head no and emitted a muffled sound that would have been a scream if not for the tape across her mouth.
“You have to be quiet,” Rider whispered. “If I take off the tape you have to be very quiet.”
Muriel nodded intensely and Rider started working on the tape. Bosch huddled in close.
“I’m going up to the room.”
“Wait, Harry,” Rider ordered, her voice louder than a whisper. “We go up together. Get her ankles.”
Bosch started working on the tape binding Muriel’s feet together. Rider finally worked the tape loose from Muriel’s mouth and pulled it down over her chin. She shooshed her soothingly as she did this.
“It’s Becky’s teacher,” Muriel whispered, her voice intense but not loud. “He’s got a gun.”
Rider started working on her wrists.
“Okay,” she said. “We’re going to deal with it.”
“What is he doing?” Muriel asked. “Is he the one?”
“Yes, he’s the one.”
Muriel Verloren let out a long, loud and anguished sigh. Her hands and feet were now loose and they helped her up to her feet.
“We’re going up there,” Rider told her. “We need you to get out of the house.”
They started ushering her toward the entrance hallway.
“I can’t leave. He’s in her room. I can’t -”
“You have to leave, Muriel,” Bosch whispered harshly. “It’s not safe here. Go to a neighbor’s house.”
“I don’t know my neighbors.”
“Muriel, you have to get out,” Rider said. “Go down the street. More police are on the way. Wave them down and tell them we’re inside already.”
They pushed her through the open front door and then closed it behind her.
“Don’t let him ruin her room!” they heard her plead from the other side. “It’s all I have left!”
Bosch and Rider made their way to the back hallway and went up the stairway as quietly as they could. They took positions on either side of the door to Rebecca’s bedroom.
Bosch looked across at Rider. They both knew there was little time. When backup units arrived the situation would change. It was a classic suicide-by-police setup. This was the one chance they might have of getting to Stoddard before he or a SWAT cop put a bullet into his brain.
Rider pointed to the doorknob and Bosch reached out and tried to silently turn it. He shook his head. The door was locked.
They used hand signals to outline a plan, nodded when they were ready, and then Bosch stepped back into the hallway and prepared to drive his heel into the door next to the knob. He knew he had to do it with one kick. They would lose the advantage of surprise after that.
“Who’s out there?”
It was Stoddard, his voice coming through the door. Bosch looked at Rider. So much for the element of surprise. He pointed to her and gave her the silent sign. He would do the talking.
“Mr. Stoddard, it’s Detective Bosch. How are you doing?”
“Not too good.”
“Yeah, things have sort of gotten out of hand, haven’t they?”
Stoddard didn’t answer.
“Tell you what,” Bosch said. “You really need to think about putting the gun down and coming out. You’re lucky I’m here. I just came to check on Mrs. Verloren. But my partner and the SWAT team are going to be here soon. You don’t want to tangle with SWAT. Now is the time to come out.”
“I just want you to know I loved her, that’s all.”
Bosch hesitated before speaking. He glanced over at Rider and then back at the door. He could go two ways with Stoddard. He could work on getting a confession right now or he could work on talking him out of the house and saving his life. Both things were possible but maybe not likely.