Desert Star (Renée Ballard, #5; Harry Bosch Universe, #36) (57)

“I just told you why,” Hastings said. “Kramer’s an asshole. A drunk. And I was concerned that he’d be vindictive because of the way we moved him out of the picture. It turns out my concerns were well founded. He’s given you a line of bullshit that has taken you completely off course.”

“I told you, it goes where it goes. If Kramer is lying I’ll deal with him.”

“What’s this really about, Ballard? Are you trying to make some kind of a play at Jake? Are you trying to threaten him? Is it you or the department?”

“I can assure you, it is no play. It is no threat. I am conducting a full field investigation. No stone left unturned. Why do you think I wanted to meet away from my team and yours? I thought you would appreciate—”

“Then what does Sandy Kramer want?”

Before Ballard could answer, a man came to the table. He wore an apron and gloves and carried a trash can. He wore a mask over his mouth and nose as other employees in the market still did.

“Finished, sir?”

He pointed to Hastings’s coffee cup. Ballard looked up and saw that the man behind the mask was Bosch. Hastings barely looked up at him.

“Take it,” he said. “I’m done.”

The second sentence was directed at Ballard. Bosch took the coffee cup in his gloved hand and walked away from the table. Hastings fixed Ballard with a hard stare.

“You know what?” he said. “I don’t even care what Sandy Kramer wants. Fuck him and fuck you, Ballard, if you think you’re going to make a move against Jake or me. This is weak and I’m out of here.”

He got up and started walking way.

“You have this completely wrong,” Ballard called after him.

He didn’t stop.





30


BOSCH GRABBED THE key off the rear tire of Ballard’s Defender, unlocked the vehicle, and placed the evidence package on the back seat floor. He relocked the vehicle and put the key back. He was heading back to the market when he got a call from Ballard.

“He left,” she said. “Where are you?”

“By your car,” Bosch said. “I put the cup on the floor in the back seat.”

“I went off script and he got mad. He headed back through the market. Can you pick him up?”

“Hold on.”

Bosch changed directions on 3rd Street. Instead of going up to Hill, he went down to Broadway and waited at the corner to see if Hastings emerged from the south side of the block-long food court.

“I don’t have him,” he said.

“He should be coming out,” Ballard said. “He just walked away less than a minute ago.”

Bosch knew that there were no through-aisles in the market. It was a maze of crowded shops and food concessions, and Hastings would need to move around people and shift from one aisle to another as he made his way through. Not enough time had passed for him to get to Broadway.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Ballard said. “Let’s just see if—”

“Got him.”

Hastings had left the market and was jaywalking across Broadway. Bosch could see he was talking and then he reached up to his ear. Bosch saw the earbud and knew he had been on a call.

“He just made a call,” Bosch said.

“He’s probably trying to find Kramer,” Ballard said. “This whole thing just blew up.”

“He looks pretty hot.”

“You’re going to stay with him? He may try to confront Kramer.”

“I got him. Wherever he goes.”

“Okay, let me get to my car and head to the lab. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to catch Darcy while she’s there. You stay with Hastings and I’ll call you back.”

She disconnected without waiting for Bosch’s reply. Bosch hung back nearly half a block as he followed Hastings on the four-block walk back to his office in council chambers. Hastings walked down 3rd to Spring and turned left. As he turned the corner, Bosch saw him reach up to the earbud again. He was getting a call.

Bosch picked up his pace, falling into a trot until he reached the corner. He made the turn and walked briskly to catch up close enough to overhear Hastings’s part of the phone conversation.

At the 2nd Street intersection, Hastings had to stop and wait for a green light. The Civic Center was largely deserted because it was a weekend and all the city offices and courts were closed. But Bosch was able to use two pedestrians who were waiting for the light as camouflage when he caught up to Hastings.

At first Hastings stood silently, like he was listening or waiting for someone to speak. Then he started speaking in tight, angry bursts. Because he was aware that others were waiting to cross with him, he dropped his voice so low that Bosch heard nothing. But as soon as the light changed and he stepped into the crosswalk, his voice returned to its sharp tone of command.

And Bosch was able to hear almost every word he said.

“Listen, motherfucker, you call her back and tell her you lied.”

There was another pause during which Hastings flung a hand out in a dismissive gesture.

“Bullshit—you’re the liar. You call her back and tell her what I told you, or I will destroy you. You understand, asshole?”

There was a beat of silence and then Hastings signed off with one word.