Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(24)

“The mission is on Cherokee near Selma—south of the Boulevard,” Bosch said. “And something about this guy looking for people to baptize poked at me. Call it a hunch, whatever. But Daisy was washed in bleach. I’m not much into organized religion, but when you get baptized you get immersed in the waters of Jesus or whatever, right?”

“I’m not much into it either—organized religion. I grew up in Hawaii. My father chased waves. That was our religion.”

“A surfer. And your mother?”

“Missing in action. Back to John the Baptist. How did you—”

Before finishing the question, Ballard looked over at the mobile data computer terminal mounted on the dashboard. It was on a swivel and she knew that the screen had been facing the driver’s seat when they left the station earlier because she wasn’t working with a partner all this week while Jenkins was out. The screen had been turned and now faced Bosch.

“You used the MDC?” she asked in an accusing voice. “To run McMullen?”

Bosch shrugged and she took that as a yes.

“How?” she demanded. “Did you steal my password?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bosch said. “I used my old partner’s. She only changes the last two digits each month. I remembered.”

Ballard was about to pull over and dump Bosch out of the car, but then she remembered that she had once used a former partner’s password to log into the department database on the down-low. Her partner was even dead at the time. How could she jump on Bosch for the same thing?

“So, what did you find?” she asked.

“He’s clean,” Bosch said. “No record.”

They drove in silence for a while. Ballard took Fairfax all the way up to Hollywood Boulevard and then turned east.

“It’s a lucky break that John the Baptist still has the van,” she said. “If Daisy was ever in it, there might still be evidence.”

Bosch nodded.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” he said. “A lucky break—but only if he’s the guy.”





11



The Moonlight Mission was located in an old Hollywood bungalow that had somehow survived the ravages of time. It was completely surrounded by commercial structures and pay lots that serviced Hollywood Boulevard a block to the north and Sunset Boulevard a block south. It stood like an orphan in its concrete surroundings, the last vestige of a period when Hollywood was primarily a residential suburb of downtown.

Ballard came down Cherokee from the Boulevard and turned left on Selma. The front of the two-story Victorian was on Cherokee but there was a gated drive-in entrance to the rear of the house on Selma. Through the gate, she glimpsed a white van.

“There’s the van,” she said. “Did you see any lights on inside?”

“A couple,” Bosch said. “Doesn’t seem like a lot of activity at the mission tonight.”

Ballard pulled into an empty self-pay lot and turned the lights off but left the engine and the heater running. She checked her watch. It was almost five, and she knew Bosch would need to go soon.

“What do you think?” she said. “We could go back to the station and knock off some more cards before you head out.”

“Let’s take another run by the front,” Bosch said. “See what we’ve got.”

Ballard dropped the car into drive and headed out of the lot. This time when they went by, the property would be on Bosch’s side and he would get the best look.

Ballard took it slow, and just as she passed the property on the Selma side, the lights of the van behind the gate came on.

“He’s leaving,” Bosch said excitedly.

“Did you see him?” Ballard asked.

“No, just the headlights. But somebody’s leaving. Let’s see who and where to.”

Ballard crossed through the intersection and pulled to the curb, still on Selma. She turned the lights on the G-ride off.

“He probably made us,” she said.

“Maybe not,” Bosch said.

He slid down in his seat and leaned to his right. Ballard was much smaller but she did the same thing, leaning left like she was asleep but giving herself an angle on the sideview mirror.

She watched the van pull through the automatic gate and turn toward them on Selma.

“Here he comes,” she said.

The van went by the detective car without hesitation. It continued down Selma to Highland Avenue. It stopped and then turned left. Once it was out of sight, Ballard put the lights on and headed down Selma.

There were so few cars on Highland that it was easy to track the van but hard not to be obvious about it. For several blocks they were the only two vehicles on the road. Bosch and Ballard were silent as they followed.

At Melrose the van made an abrupt U-turn and headed back up Highland.

“He made us,” Ballard said. “What should we—”

She stopped when the van turned into a shopping plaza on the corner.

“Keep going a few blocks,” Bosch said. “Then turn right and come back on Melrose.”

Ballard followed his instructions. When they got back to the intersection of Melrose and Highland, they spotted the van parked in front of a twenty-four-hour Yum Yum Donuts store. Ballard knew it was a popular place with the late show crew.