Desert Star (Renée Ballard, #5; Harry Bosch Universe, #36) (96)

“This is because of the recall, isn’t it?” Ballard said.

The district attorney was facing a recall election because his liberal policies of making it more difficult to send offenders to prison had resulted in a surge in crime stats across Los Angeles County. New directives from the sixteenth floor, which did not require bail for most crimes, prevented prosecutors from adding penalty enhancements for use of guns in the commission of crimes, and deferred prosecution for misdemeanors and even some violent felonies, had created a revolving-door justice system. The media routinely reported on suspects freshly released from jail without bail or without being charged and then committing exactly the same types of crimes—sometimes within hours.

Though the D.A. attempted to blame this on the Covid pandemic and the need to lessen crowding in jails during the crisis, he had lost the support of the law enforcement agencies in the county as well as a significant percentage of the populace. A well-funded recall campaign was underway. A story about the D.A.’s Office putting an innocent man in prison—even though it was long before the current D.A. was elected—was not going to help him keep his job.

“Look, I’m not going to deny the reality of what is happening across the street,” Blodget said. “But I know how this will go. I go over there with this case as it is, and they’ll kill it and Ochoa never gets free.”

“So you’re telling me to wait until after the recall,” Ballard said. “Make Jorge Ochoa wait up there in Corcoran for another six months for something he didn’t do, never mind all the years he’s already spent there.”

“What I’m telling you is that if I take it across the street right now and it gets rejected, then good luck taking it a second time, no matter who is in the corner office on sixteen.”

Ballard nodded and held her tongue. She knew Blodget was not her enemy. The situation was what it was. And she needed to keep Blodget on her side because there would be future cases with issues that would come in wobbling. She would need Blodget then.

Ballard also knew this was not the only place she could take the case. There was an alternate way to free Jorge Ochoa if she wanted to risk it.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks for hearing me out. But I’ll be back with this one when the time and evidence is right.”

“I hope you do bring it to me, Renée,” Blodget said.

Ballard got up to leave.

As she left the Major Crimes Unit, her cheeks grew hot with humiliation as she thought about the meeting earlier that day at the house where Jorge Ochoa grew up. The distrust that Jorge’s brother had voiced about the police and the justice system had just been validated. Ballard had promised to stay in touch with Jorge’s mother and brother, but now she had no idea how she would ever be able to face them again.

Waiting for the elevator, Ballard checked her phone and saw she had no signal. This was not surprising. The Major Crimes Unit was located in the former jail at the top of the Hall of Justice. Though renovated into offices years earlier, the floors and walls were still concrete and reinforced with steel to prevent escape. The structure was notorious for knocking out cell service. It wasn’t until Ballard stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor that her texts and voice mail messages came through. There were several from Maddie Bosch.

Call me.

Need to talk ASAP.

Where are you?



There were also two voice mails but Ballard didn’t bother to listen to them, deciding to quickly call back instead as she headed down Spring Street to the PAB. Maddie picked up the call right away and spoke as if they were already in mid-conversation.

“This is weird. After I went back into the house to write my dad a note, I found this envelope in a drawer with my name on it. So I opened it, and it was this long letter to me about how good a person I am and how I’m strong and what a good cop I’ll be. Like stuff he wanted me to know after he’s gone, you know?”

Ballard knew exactly what the note was meant for but didn’t want to make Maddie any more upset than she was.

“Well, Maddie,” she said. “Maybe it was just something he—”

“And then I fucking missed a call from him,” Maddie interjected. “I was so stressed about this note I found and I couldn’t get you, so I went and I worked out at the station, and he called while I was in the shower afterward.”

“Did he leave a message?”

“Yes. He said he was in Key West and he was fine. But it was kind of weird.”

“What do you mean? How was it weird?”

“Well, not like him. He was saying he was fine and he was working a case and that he loved me very much. He just didn’t sound right. He said I was the best thing that ever happened in his life. And then with the note I found … I don’t know. I’m really worried.”

“Do you have the number he called from on your phone?”

“Yes, I called it back as soon as I heard the message. It’s a hotel in Key West, and I asked for Harry Bosch’s room and they put me through. But he didn’t answer. I’ve called three times and he doesn’t answer.”

“What’s the hotel?”

“It’s called the Pier House.”

“Okay, I’m on it, Maddie. I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”

“And listen, there’s one more thing that adds to the weirdness of what’s going on with him.”