“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.
“Detective, thank you for not forgetting about our daughter. I’m going to hang up now so I can go downstairs and be with my wife.”
“I understand, sir. I am sure we will be talking soon. Good-bye.”
When Mrs. Price came back on the line, she had composed herself.
“On the cable news they said that the police were looking at pictures and videos of the victims. They’re not going to show those on TV, are they? They’re not going to show Lily, are they?”
Bosch closed his eyes and pressed the phone hard against his ear.
“No, ma’am, that won’t happen. The photos are evidence and they won’t be released. There may come a time when they will be used in the trial. But if that happens, the prosecutor assigned to the case will discuss it with you. Or I will. You will be kept informed about everything involved in the prosecution. I’m sure of that.”
“Okay, Detective. Thank you. I never thought this day would come, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know it’s been a long time.”
“Do you have children, Detective?”
“I have a daughter.”
“Keep her close.”
“Yes, ma’am. I will. I’ll get back to you soon.”
Bosch hung up the phone.
“How’d that go?”
Bosch swiveled in his seat. Chu had come back into the cubicle without his noticing.
“About how they all go,” he said. “Just two more victims. .”
“Yeah. Where are they?”
“Dayton. What’s happening with the others?”
“Everybody’s about to head out. I think they’ve seen enough for one day. It’s truly horrible stuff.”
Bosch nodded. He checked the clock on the wall again. It had been a long day, almost twelve hours for him. Chu was talking about the other detective teams that were assigned to the investigation and had been sifting through videos of torture and murder for the past six hours.
“I was going to head out with them, Harry, if that’s okay.”
“Sure. I gotta go home, too.”
“I think we’re in good shape for tomorrow, don’t you?”
They had a 9 A.M. appointment at the District Attorney’s Office to present their case and seek murder charges against Hardy in the Lily Price case. Bosch turned sideways to his desk and put his hand on the thick pocket file that contained the reports they would give to the DA. The package.
“Yeah,” Bosch said. “I think we’re set.”
“Okay, then, I’m out of here. I’ll see you in the A.M. We meet here and walk over?”
“Yeah.”
Chu was a backpack guy. He swung his bag over his shoulder and headed out of the cubicle.
“Hey, David,” Bosch said. “Before you go. .”
Chu turned back and leaned on one of the cubicle’s four-foot walls.
“Yeah?”
“I just wanted to say you did good today. We did good as partners.”
Chu nodded.
“Thanks, Harry.”
“So never mind all that stuff from before, okay? We’ll just start from here.”
“I told you I’d make it up.”
“Yeah, so go home. . and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See ya, Harry.”
Chu went off, a happy man. Bosch saw there had been a moment of expectancy in his face. Maybe a makeup beer or a bite of food would have solidified the partnership further, but Harry needed to get home. He needed to do exactly what Mrs. Price had told him to do.
The new PAB cost nearly half a billion dollars and had half a million square feet of space in its ten floors of limestone and glass, but it didn’t have a snack bar, and parking was available for only a privileged few of high rank. As a detective three Bosch barely made the grade, but taking advantage of parking in the PAB’s subterranean garage was a costly perk. A fee would’ve been deducted from his paycheck each month. He opted out because he could still park for free in the old “erector set,” the rusting steel parking structure located three blocks away and behind the old police headquarters, Parker Center.
He didn’t mind the three-block walk to and from work. It was right through the heart of the civic center and a good length for prepping for the day ahead or decompressing after it.
Bosch was on Main Street, crossing behind City Hall, when he noticed the black Town Car cruise quietly up in the bus lane and stop at the curb twenty feet in front of him.
Even as he saw the rear window glide down, he acted like he had not noticed and kept walking, his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him.
“Detective Bosch.”
Bosch turned to see Irvin Irving’s face framed in the open rear window of the Lincoln.
“I don’t think we have anything to say to each other, Councilman.”
He kept walking and soon enough the Town Car pulled forward and started moving next to him, matching his speed. Bosch might not have wanted to talk to Irving but Irving certainly wanted to talk to him.
“You think you’re bulletproof, Bosch?”
Bosch waved him off.
“You think this big case you just scored makes you bulletproof? You’re not bulletproof. Nobody is.”
Bosch had had enough. He suddenly veered toward the car. Irving pulled back from the window as Bosch put his hands on the sill and leaned in. The car came to a slow stop. Irving was alone in the backseat.
“I had nothing to do with that story in the paper yesterday, okay? I don’t think I’m bulletproof. I don’t think I’m anything. I was doing my job, that’s all.”
“You blew it, that’s what you did.”
“I didn’t blow anything. I told you I had nothing to do with it. You have a problem, go talk to the chief.”
“I’m not talking about a newspaper article. I don’t give a good goddamn about the L.A. Times. Fuck them. I’m talking about you. You blew it, Bosch. I counted on you and you blew it.”