The Wrong Side of Goodbye(77)

When Bosch moved into the living room and dining area he could clearly hear what was being said in the kitchen. Dockweiler was not cooperating and Trevino had moved to a threatening form of interrogation that Bosch knew was rarely successful.

“You’re cooked, my friend,” Trevino said. “It’s a DNA case. As soon as we match yours to the evidence collected from the victims, it’s over. You’re over. You’ll get consecutive sentences and never breathe free air again. The only way you can help yourself is to give us back Bella. Tell us where she is and we’ll go to bat for you. With the DA, with the judge, you name it.”

Trevino’s plea was met with silence. Everything the captain said was true but delivering it as threat would rarely get a suspect with the Screen Cutter’s profile to cooperate and talk. Bosch knew that a proper interview would appeal to his narcissism, his genius. Harry would’ve attempted to make Dockweiler think he was controlling the interview and bleed information out of him bit by bit.

Bosch crossed through the living room and into the entrance hallway. He saw Valdez leaning against the wall next to the archway to the kitchen, watching the interview with Dockweiler go nowhere. He looked back at Bosch and raised his chin, asking if Harry had found anything. Bosch just shook his head.

Just before the kitchen entrance, there was a door that led into the garage. Bosch entered, flicked on the overhead lights, and closed the door behind him. The space was also used for storage of survival supplies. More pallets of canned goods, water, and powdered mixes. Somehow Dockweiler had gotten hold of a supply of U.S. Army–produced MREs—Meals Ready to Eat. There were also nonedible supplies here. Boxes of batteries, lanterns, first-aid kits, tool kits, CO2 scrubbers, water filters, and enzyme additives for water filtration and use in chemical toilets. There were boxes of light sticks and medical supplies such as Betadine and potassium iodide. Bosch remembered those from his military training, when the threat of nuclear holocaust from the Soviet Union seemed real. Both chemicals acted as thyroid protection against cancer-causing radioactive iodine. It looked like Dockweiler was prepped for all possibilities, from terrorist attack to nuclear detonation.

Bosch returned to the door and stuck his head back into the entrance hallway. He drew Valdez’s attention and signaled him into the garage.

As the police chief entered, his eyes held on the stacks of supplies in the center of the garage.

“What is all of this?” he asked.

“Dockweiler’s a survivalist,” Bosch said. “Looks like he must put all his money into this stuff. The attic and two of the bedrooms are full of D-day supplies and weapons. He’s got an arsenal in one bedroom. And it looks like he could go three or four months with this stuff as long as he doesn’t mind eating Army beef stew out of a can.”

“Well, I hope he packed a can opener.”

“It might explain some of his motivation. When the world is coming to an end, people act out, take what they want. Is Trevino getting anywhere?”

“No, nowhere. Dockweiler’s just playing games, denying everything, then hinting he might know something.”

Bosch nodded. He assumed that he would get his shot as soon as he was finished with the search.

“I’m going to take a quick look at the truck and then call a judge. I want a legit warrant to really do a down-and-dirty search of this place.”

Valdez was smart enough to read Bosch’s thinking.

“So you think Bella’s gone, huh?”

Bosch hesitated but then nodded somberly.

“I mean, why would he keep her alive?” he said. “Our profiler said this guy was going to graduate to murder. Bella could ID him. Why let her live?”

Valdez dropped his chin to his chest.

“Sorry, Chief,” Bosch said. “Just being realistic about things.”

“I know,” Valdez said. “But we’re not going to stop until we find her. One way or the other.”

“I wouldn’t want to.”

Valdez clapped him on the arm and went back through the door into the house.

Bosch moved down a narrow passageway through the stacks to the driveway and Dockweiler’s truck. The front cab was unlocked and he opened it on the passenger side since it was most likely that side would show an indication if Bella Lourdes had been in the truck. On the passenger seat sat a large closed bag from a McDonald’s restaurant. Bosch stripped off a glove and placed the back of his fingers against the bag. It was slightly warm to the touch and Bosch assumed that Dockweiler’s arrival at the house had come after he went out to pick up dinner.

Bosch put the glove back on and opened the bag. He still had the flashlight he’d collected off the front lawn. He pulled it from his back pocket and pointed the beam down into the bag. He counted two cardboard sandwich cartons and two large sleeves of French fries.

Bosch knew that the contents of the bag could easily constitute dinner for one big man like Dockweiler, but he also knew it was more likely dinner for two. For the first time since they had entered Dockweiler’s house, he was hit with the hope that Bella was alive. He pondered whether Dockweiler was stopping by his house before taking the food to his captive someplace else, or whether she was here somewhere and he just hadn’t found her. He thought of the drainage wash down the slope behind Dockweiler’s house. Maybe she was down there.

He left the food bag in place and used the flashlight beam to comb the dark carpet and sides of the passenger seat. He saw nothing that held his attention or indicated Bella had been in the truck.