Desert Star (Renée Ballard, #5; Harry Bosch Universe, #36) (75)

“No. It wasn’t her call. He wasn’t her choice.”

“Then who?”

“You should maybe call Nelson Hastings at the councilman’s office and ask him that question.”

Bosch could hear Russell’s muffled laugh even though it was apparent she had put her hand over the phone. Then she came back clear.

“This is just too fucking good,” she said.

“Remember, confirm it on your own,” Bosch said. “Not from me.”

“Don’t worry, Harry. I will. You trust me? You used to.”

“That was a long time ago. I’ll know if I can trust you when I read the paper tomorrow.”

“You’ll see it online at ten.”

“I don’t subscribe.”

“Then wait till tomorrow. But let’s get that drink soon.”

“You do this right, and drinks are on me.”

“That’s a deal. And I gotta go. Deadline’s in an hour, and thanks to you, I still have a lot of work to do.”

“Happy hunting.”

Bosch disconnected and looked down into the pass again. Nothing was moving. The city’s arteries were clogged.





41


BALLARD WANTED TO be the first one in to work, but as she entered the archive room, she heard the rhythmic mechanical sounds of a multipage job being printed in the copy room. She looked in and found Bosch sliding documents over the three rings of a binder as more were being printed.

“Harry, what are you doing here?”

He looked at her for a long moment before answering.

“Uh, I work here. Unless I’m fired and they didn’t tell me.”

“No, I meant, I thought you’d take some time. To heal up.”

“Two days was enough. I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Last time I saw you, that knee looked kind of wobbly.”

“I bought one of those compression sleeves at CVS. It works pretty good. But you should see the mark it leaves on my leg.”

Ballard stepped all the way in and looked at the binder. He was obviously putting together a murder book.

“So what’s this?” she asked.

“I’m copying the files I don’t have on the Gallagher Family case,” he said. “I’m going to start back on it.”

“I thought we were clear on copying files, and yet here you are.”

Bosch said nothing as he put a stack of documents back on the rings of one of the original murder books. Ballard put the box she was carrying down on a counter next to the binder Bosch was stacking.

“Talk to me, Harry. What’s going on?”

“Look, I haven’t been in the department for a long time, but I still know how to read the tea leaves. They’re going to tell you to get rid of me. And that’s fine. I don’t want to cause you any more problems than I already have. But when I go, who’s going to work this?”

He pointed to the case’s seven binders on the counter.

“So I figure I’ll take it with me,” he said. “And I’ll keep working it. I’ll call you when I find McShane.”

“Harry, I’m not going to bullshit you and tell you everything is copacetic,” Ballard said. “But I told them, if you go, I go. I said that directly to the chief.”

Bosch nodded.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “I really do. But you shouldn’t have done it. It won’t stop them from doing what they want.”

“We’ll see,” Ballard said.

“We will, and probably pretty soon.”

“What was in the Times this morning doesn’t help. Did you read it?”

“I don’t read the Times.”

“They got a lot that wasn’t said during the chief’s press conference.”

“It’s what they do.”

“This Keisha Russell, the reporter—do you know her?”

“Uh, yeah, but last I heard, she went to the Washington bureau. That was, like, I don’t know, a long time ago. Years. I’m surprised she’s still around.”

“Yeah, well, she is, and she’s in L.A. now, and she laid the whole thing out. Rawls being in the unit, and that the councilman’s office put him there. That’s why I’m in early—because Nelson Hastings called me at six this morning.”

“I bet he was hot. Is that the box from Rawls’s car?”

“He was hot and he still is. And don’t change the subject. Whoever fed Russell that story really put me in deep shit.”

The copy machine finished its job and the room was silent.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bosch finally said. “There was nobody named in the story?”

“ ‘Sources said’—that was it for attribution,” Ballard said. “And Nelson thinks I’m one of those sources. I mean, she did call me. Three times, in fact. But I never talked to her, didn’t even return the calls to say, how’d you get my number and no fucking comment. Nothing like being blamed for something you didn’t do.”

“I know how that is. I’m sorry. But maybe it’s good that it’s out there and the public knows. Don’t you think?”

“Not if they shutter the unit again. What Pearlman gives, he can also take away. And why not? His sister’s case is solved. He already got what he wants out of it.”