The Dark Hours (Harry Bosch #23)(102)

“Sorry, dude, I tripped. There’s boxes and shit in here.”

“You okay, Bri?”

“Yeah, just fucked up my knee a little bit. Everything’s copacetic.”

“You sure?”

Ballard hit mute.

“Tell him you’re sure,” she said. “And tell him to keep watching for the woman. Go.”

She took it off mute.

“I’m sure. Just tell me when you see her.”

“All right, man.”

Ballard hit mute again and put the phone down on the desk.

“Okay, hold still.”

With one hand holding the gun to his head, Ballard reached around to the fanny pack and felt for a buckle but came up empty.

“Okay, one hand, reach down and take off the pack.”

The man reached with his right hand. Ballard heard a snap and then his hand came back up holding the pack by its strap.

“Just drop it on the floor.”

The man complied. Ballard then used her free hand to frisk him and check the pockets of the coveralls. She found nothing.

“Okay, I want you to get facedown on the floor. Now.”

Again he complied but under protest.

“Who the fuck are you?” he said as he went down.

“Lie flat and don’t talk unless I ask you to. You understand?”

He said nothing. Ballard pushed the muzzle further into the back of his neck.

“Hey, do you understand?”

“Yeah, take it easy, I understand.”

He lowered himself to the floor and she held the gun on his neck all the way down, then put one knee on his back.

She realized that her handcuffs were in her equipment kit in her car, where she had put them while off duty and heading out to see Garrett. Add one more flaw to her plan.

She reached over to the fanny pack the redhead had just dropped to the floor.

“Let’s see what you’ve got in here,” she said.

She put the pack down on his back and unzipped it. It contained a roll of duct tape, a folding knife, and a premade, duct-tape blindfold on a peel-off backing that had been intended for Hannah Stovall. There was a strip of condoms and a garage remote.

“Looks like you have a full rape kit here, huh, Bri?” she said. “Can I call you Bri like your partner did?”

The man on the floor didn’t respond.

“Okay if I use some of your tape?” Ballard asked.

Again there was no answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ballard said.

After putting the gun down on the man’s back, she pulled his hands together and wrapped the duct tape around his wrists, unspooling it from the roll as she went. She could feel him trying to keep his wrists parted.

“Stop fighting it,” she commanded.

“I’m not fighting it,” he yelled into the floor. “I can’t get them together.”

Ballard thumbed open the knife’s blade and cut the tape. She then grabbed the gun and stood up. She put the tape and the knife on the desk and then reached down and roughly yanked the ski mask off the top of his head, bouncing his face on the floor and releasing a torrent of red hair.

“Goddammit! That cut my lip.”

“That’s the least of your problems.”

Ballard reached down and picked up the garage opener. She recognized it as a programmable remote like the one she had been given by her apartment landlord. He had told her that once a year the HOA changed the code as a security measure and he would provide her with the new combination to install. She now understood how the Midnight Men got into each victim’s home.

“Who gave you the garage code?” she asked.

She got no answer.

“That’s okay. We’ll find out.”

She stepped back from him, moving to the side.

“Turn your head, show me your face.”

He did. She saw a small amount of blood on his lips. He looked young, no more than twenty-five.

“What’s your full name?”

“I’m not telling you my name. You want to arrest me, arrest me. I broke in, big deal. Book me, and we’ll see what happens.”

“Bad news, kid. I’m not a cop and I’m not here to book you.”

“Bullshit. I can tell you’re a cop.”

Ballard bent down and held the revolver out so he could see it.

“Cops have handcuffs, and cops don’t carry little revolvers like this. But when we’re through with you and your partner, you’re going to wish we were going to book you.”

“Yeah, who’s ‘we’? I’m not seeing anybody else here.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

She wanted to wrap his ankles with tape to prevent him from getting up but she also wanted to keep him talking. He wasn’t giving her anything yet but she felt that the more he talked, the better the chance he might slip up and provide something useful or important.

“Tell me about the photos.”

“What photos?”

“And videos. We know you and your pal documented the rapes. For what? For yourselves or somebody else?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. What rapes? I broke in to steal shit, that’s it.”

“And who was on the phone with you?”