Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(25)

“He’s just getting donuts,” Ballard said. “He’ll then head back to the mission or he’ll go give them out at the homeless encampments and see if he can pick up a few baptisms.”

“Probably,” Bosch said.

“You want to go get doughnuts and get a look at him?”

“I’d rather get a look inside the van, see what he’s got in there.”

“Gaslight him?”

Bosch checked his watch.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

Ten minutes later, after discussing a strategy, they were following the van back up Highland. They had seen a white man wearing what looked like a full-length bathrobe come out of Yum Yum with two twelve-packs of doughnuts and then hop behind the wheel of the van. As they crossed Sunset, Ballard put on the grille lights of the detective car and straddled the lane so the van’s driver could see her in his sideview. She signaled him over and he complied, pulling to the curb at the corner of Highland and Selma.

Ballard and Bosch both got out and approached on either side of the van. Ballard flipped her jacket back and kept her hand on her holstered gun as she approached the driver-side door. The window came down as she got there. She noticed that on the door just below the window was written JOHN 3:16. She guessed that McMullen had named himself after a Bible verse.

“Good morning,” she said. “How are you today, sir?”

“Uh, I’m fine,” he said. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

“It’s Detective, actually. Can I get some identification from you, sir?”

The man already had his driver’s license in his hand. Ballard checked it, her eyes flicking from the ID to the man behind the wheel, wary of any quick move. McMullen had a beard and long hair with gray streaks that had infiltrated since the ID photo was taken.

The DOB on the license put him at forty-five years old. The address corresponded with the Moonlight Mission bungalow. She handed the driver’s license back.

“What brings you out on the street so early, sir?” Ballard asked.

“I went to get doughnuts for my people,” McMullen said. “How come you’re stopping me?”

“We got a report of a van that was being driven erratically. Suspected drunk driver. Have you been drinking, sir?”

“No, and I never drink. Alcohol is the work of the devil.”

“Do you mind stepping out of the van so we can make sure?”

McMullen noticed Bosch staring at him through the passenger-side window. He turned his head back and forth between him and Ballard.

“I told you I don’t drink,” he protested. “Haven’t had a drop in twenty-one years.”

“Then it should be pretty easy to show us you’re sober,” Ballard said.

McMullen gripped the steering wheel until Ballard could see the points of his knuckles turn white.

“All right,” he said. “But you’re wasting your time.”

He reached his hand down out of sight and Ballard gripped her gun, ready to go. She saw Bosch make a quick head shake, telling her everything was all right. Then she heard McMullen’s seatbelt come off. He opened the door and climbed out, then slammed it behind him. He was dressed the part of the missionary in sandals and a white tunic cinched at the waist by a braided rope. Over this he wore an ankle-length maroon robe with gold tassels on the sleeves.

“Is there anyone else in the van, sir?” Ballard asked.

“No,” McMullen said. “Why should there be?”

“Officer safety, sir. My partner’s going to check to make sure. Are you okay with that?”

“Whatever. The lock on the side door’s broken. He can open it.”

“Okay, sir, please step to the back of your vehicle, where it’s safer.”

Ballard nodded to Bosch, who was now standing at the front of the van. She followed McMullen to the rear and started putting him through old-school field sobriety testing. She began with the walk and turn so she could glance back while McMullen was walking a straight line away from her. She saw Bosch leaning into the van through the rear side door. It looked like nothing was amiss.

McMullen completed the maneuver without issue.

“I told you,” he said.

“Yes, you did, sir,” Ballard said. “I want you now to face me and raise your right leg and hold it up, standing only on your left foot. Do you understand? I then want you to count to ten while keeping your foot up.”

“Not a problem.”

McMullen raised his leg and stared at Ballard.

“Who are your people?” Ballard asked.

“What do you mean?” McMullen said.

“You said you just got doughnuts for your people.”

“The Moonlight Mission. I have a flock.”

“So you’re a preacher. You can put your foot down.”

“Of sorts. I just try to lead people to the Word of God.”

“And they go willingly? Raise your other foot now and hold it.”

“Of course they do. Or they can leave. I don’t force anybody to do anything.”

“You provide beds for people, or is it just prayer services?”

“We have beds. People can stay temporarily. Once they find the Word, they want to get off the streets and make something of their lives. We’ve saved many. We’ve baptized many.”