Desert Star (Renée Ballard, #5; Harry Bosch Universe, #36) (93)

“I’ll check his closet.”

Maddie went back down the hallway and Ballard leafed through one of the two stacks on the table. They were documents from the Gallagher Family case.

Ballard noticed that the table had a drawer, most likely to hold silverware or napkins if it was used as an eating table instead of a worktable. She reached down and slid it open. It contained mostly utensils from to-go meals as well as some pens, paper clips, and Post-it pads. There were also several loose pills in the drawer and an envelope with Maddie written on it. Curious, she lifted out the envelope and saw that it was sealed. She then picked up one of the pills. It was light blue and disk-shaped. There was no brand stamp or other identification other than the number 30 imprinted on it. She guessed that this meant the pill was a 30-milligram dose.

She heard Maddie’s steps coming back down the hallway. Without giving it much thought, Ballard palmed the pill and closed the drawer as Maddie came into the room.

“The suitcase is there,” Maddie said. “But he also has this duffel bag that he uses for short trips. That’s gone. He went somewhere without telling me.”

“Has that happened before?” Ballard asked.

“Well, not that I know of. He called me last week when he was just going to Chicago for one night. But who knows—he could have made lots of trips without telling me. There’s no way for me to know.”

“Right.”

“But now I don’t feel good about us being in here invading his privacy. I think we need to leave.”

“Sure. I have an appointment downtown I’ve got to get to.”

Maddie pulled her keys and stepped back so Ballard could go out first before she locked the door. Once she was outside, Ballard turned back to Maddie.

“I’m sorry if I overreacted, Maddie. It’s just that we were in the middle of a case and, with him getting banged up Sunday, I was a little worried about him sort of disappearing without a word. But I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

Maddie nodded.

“Sure,” she said, but she seemed unconvinced.

“How did he seem when you saw him Tuesday for lunch?” Ballard asked.

“Uh, okay. Normal. I mean, he was still sore from the crash, his knee was hurting him, but he was Dad. He was talking about wanting to get back to work on a case. The usual stuff for him.”

“And nothing from him since that lunch?”

“No. Should I be worried, Renée?”

“I don’t really know. Last we talked, he was going to see a witness that he had spoken to before but who was not going to like seeing him. And that was it.”

“Maybe we have to go see that witness.”

“We?”

“I’m off today. But I’m a cop and he’s my father. Who was the witness?”

“Wait a minute. Let’s not jump the gun here. Maybe he—”

“Who’s jumping the gun? You said he went to see a witness—in a murder investigation, I assume. And no one has heard from him since. What’s wrong with this picture?”

“Okay, look, I have to go downtown for a meeting at the D.A.’s office. Let me do that, and then I’ll run down a location on the witness. If your dad doesn’t show up by then, we’ll go see her tonight.”

Maddie said nothing and Ballard could tell she was frustrated by the delay.

“What you should do,” Ballard said, “is go back inside and write a note to your dad that says he needs to call you as soon as he gets home. Just in case he’s just out of pocket without a phone and we’re worrying over nothing. Will you do that?”

“Yes,” Maddie said sullenly.

“Okay, then I’m going to go, and let’s keep each other in the loop. You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“Good. I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

They went their separate ways, Ballard to her car and Maddie back into the house.

Ballard drove down the hill and jumped on the Hollywood Freeway. She headed south to downtown.

Checking the time on the dashboard, she saw that she could just make it to the SID lab before her appointment at the District Attorney’s office. She wanted to find out what the pills she had found loose in Bosch’s worktable drawer were and what he would be taking them for. She knew she was committing a breach of Bosch’s privacy that was far beyond what his own daughter had objected to earlier. But there was something going on with Bosch and she needed to find out what it was.





50


THE PARKING AT Charter Boat Row was wide open. All the action for the day was complete and most of the boats had been buttoned up for the night. Bosch walked along the seawall, reading the names of the boats and the signs showing contact information and charter availability. The boats ranged from thirty-foot open fishers to deep-sea cruisers with multiple decks, cabins, and lookout towers.

Near the end of the row, a man was using a hose to spray the decking of a large cruiser with an open salon and room for a large fishing party. It was low tide, so the boat and the man were below Bosch and the seawall. Eventually the man looked up and saw Bosch. He wore a salt-crusted baseball cap that said DECK DOCTOR on it. He pointed to the faucet where the hose he was using was attached.

“Hey, pal, can you turn the water off for me?” he called up.