Desert Star (Renée Ballard, #5; Harry Bosch Universe, #36) (71)

“Oh my god,” he said. “Wow. Is it really over?”

“Yes, sir, as far as your sister’s case,” Ballard said. “The D.A. will review and approve our closing of the case. I know there is no such thing as closure, but maybe this will give you some measure of peace.”

“And the other case?” Pearlman said. “He met her or picked her because he was door-knocking for me?”

“It looks that way,” Ballard said.

There was a pause and then Hastings spoke.

“This cannot come back on the councilman,” he said.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ballard said.

“That last part, Detective,” Hastings said. “You have no proof that Rawls met or targeted Laura Wilson while knocking on doors for a candidate. You have a campaign button that she could have gotten anywhere. So do not put that conjecture out in the media. If your chief chooses to do so, then he will no longer enjoy the support of this office.”

“I will carry that message to media relations,” Ballard said. “They’ll be putting out the press release after the chief speaks.”

“How are you handling the inclusion of Rawls on the cold case squad?” Hastings asked.

“How do you mean?” Ballard asked.

“I think you can count on some smart reporters asking how Rawls ended up on the squad,” Hastings said. “And a follow-up question will be to ask what kind of background check was conducted.”

“Well, I assume that kind of question won’t come to me,” Ballard said. “But if it does, I’m not going to lie to the media or anybody else. You told me that the councilman wanted him on the team. I spoke to my captain about it and we did what was asked. I still have the emails from you.”

She wanted to make sure he understood that if he tried to throw her or the LAPD under the bus, it would likely backfire on him.

“Yes, the emails were from me,” Hastings said. “I told you to put him on the team. Not the councilman. That is the truth and that is all you have to reveal if asked.”

Hastings was willing to sacrifice himself to protect Pearlman. Ballard saw the valor in that—rare to find in politics. Her respect for Hastings grew in that moment.

“I understand,” she said.

“When does the chief hold his presser?” Ford asked.

“At four,” Ballard said.

“We should hold our own right afterward,” Ford said. “So we’re part of the same news cycle.”

“Excellent idea,” Hastings said. “Detective, a question for you. Would you be willing to stand with the councilman and state that his being instrumental in the reboot of the Open-Unsolved Unit led to the identity of the killer and to solving these two cases?”

“I’d have to get department approval,” Ballard said.

“Then please do,” Hastings said. “We would love to have you, and I’m sure you would want to show your respect for the man who led the charge in reinstating the unit after many years.”

“I’ll check with my captain and let you know,” Ballard said.

Sensing that the meeting was over, Ballard stood up. Pearlman seemed to come out of a daze and stood up as well. It was then that Ballard saw tears on his face. While she had been parrying with Hastings and Ford, Pearlman had apparently been thinking about his lost sister and having to accept that it was someone from his life—a friend—who had killed her.

“Detective, thank you,” he said. “When I pushed for the reinstatement of the unit, it was because I didn’t want my sister’s case forgotten. To know that we have solved the case validates everything I said about the unit’s importance. That’s the message I will convey at my press conference. I can’t thank you enough, and I’ll be sure to say that as well. I hope you will join us.”

He put his hand out and Ballard shook it.

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

As she walked the half block down Spring Street from City Hall to the PAB, Ballard reviewed the answers she had given during the intense meeting and believed she had acquitted herself well. She had no intention of asking permission to stand with Councilman Pearlman at a press conference—even if he was going to sing the praises of her and the unit. That would be mixing politics and police work, and that was a recipe for eventual disaster. She would take a pass on that.

When she got to the PAB, she saw a handful of television crews setting up in front of a lectern with a large gold replica of the LAPD badge affixed to it. On the badge was the image of City Hall, the iconic building Ballard had just come from—Old Faithful, as it was called by the denizens of the Civic Center. When the chief took the lectern for the press conference, the twenty-seven-floor tower would be reflected behind him in the glass facade of the PAB. It would be a reminder that politics and police work could never really be separated.

Ballard badged her way into the building and took the elevator to the tenth floor, where a pre–press conference meeting was scheduled in the media relations office just down the hall from the OCP—the Office of the Chief of Police.

The department’s chief spokesperson was a civilian, a former reporter for Channel 5 News named Ramon Rivera. He welcomed Ballard into his office, and she was surprised to see the chief of police sitting there as well. They were going over the statement the chief would read at the press conference. A copy of the statement would be distributed to the reporters.