Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(46)

Arresting a celebrity in a celebrity town was risky business. The cases drew massive attention and the accused usually hired the best and brightest legal teams. The defense would do a deep dive into Ballard’s life and career, and she knew as surely she was standing there that her history as a complainant about sexual harassment in the department would be brought up and likely used to paint her as biased in favor of the female.

She realized she could back out at this point. The celebrity involvement would easily qualify this investigation as a downtown case. The newly formed sexual harassment task force should be called out. But Ballard also realized that the way the system worked could put other women in jeopardy. Her passing the buck here would result in a slow and methodical investigation during which Monahan would not be arrested or in any way removed from his life and routines. It might be weeks before the case was presented to the District Attorney’s Office for charges.

But Monahan had just said he did this often—brought a woman up from the comedy clubs down below. Did he do what he did to Chloe to every woman he brought to the round bedroom? Ballard could not risk that her acting out of career caution or department protocol might lead to other women being victimized.

Ballard called Dvorek in from the hallway, then turned back to Monahan.

“Mr. Monahan, stand up,” she said. “You’re under arrest for—”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Monahan yelled. “Okay, okay. Look, I didn’t want to do this but I can prove to you there was no rape. Just let me show you. There will be no arrest. I guarantee it.”

Ballard looked at him for a moment, then glanced at Dvorek.

“You have five minutes,” she said.

“We have to go to my bedroom,” Monahan said.

“That’s a crime scene.”

“No, it’s not a crime scene. I have the whole thing on video. You look at it, you’ll see. No rape.”

Ballard realized she should have seen that coming. The mirror on the ceiling. Monahan was a voyeur.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Monahan led the police procession to the bedroom, stating his case along the way.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not a creep,” he said. “But with all this MeToo stuff starting up last year, I thought I needed protection, you know?”

“You put in cameras,” Ballard said.

“Damn right. I knew it might come to this. I didn’t do it for me to watch—that would be sick. I just needed the protection.”

In the bedroom he went to a remote control on a stand next to the bed and turned on a large screen that mirrored the curve of the wall. Soon the screen split into sixteen views from security cameras around the house. He highlighted one of the squares and expanded it. Ballard was now looking at an overhead view of the room that included her, Dvorek, and Monahan. Ballard turned to locate the camera and focused on the ornate frame of a painting on the wall near the head of the bed.

“Okay, now we just rewind,” Monahan said.

Ballard turned back. Two minutes later, they were watching Monahan and Chloe Lambert have sex on the bed. There was no sound and thankfully it was a wide-angle lens. Ballard assumed that the action on the screen could be blown up, but that was not necessary for her to see what was obviously a consensual coupling.

“That was the first time we did it,” Monahan said. “Then we took a little nap. You want me to fast-forward to the main event?”

“Please,” Ballard said.

Monahan sped forward to the second round of sex, and it became clear through Lambert’s body language and posturing that she had initiated the second go and the specific act of anal sex. When it was over, she walked calmly to the bathroom and closed the door.

Monahan started to fast-forward the playback again.

“So, here is where I hear her on the phone in there calling the cops.”

He switched to normal playback and they watched as he jumped naked from the bed and rushed to the bathroom door. He leaned his head to the jamb like he was listening to the phone call Lambert was making, then started pounding the side of his fist against the door.

“You can turn it off,” Ballard said. “I’m going to need a copy.”

“No way,” Monahan said. “Why?”

“Because it’s evidence. I’m going to arrest her for filing a false report.”

“I don’t want her arrested. I just want you to get her the fuck out of here. You think I want every broad I’ve banged this year to know I have them on tape? Why do you think I didn’t tell you about this from the start? I’m not pressing any charges. Just get her out of here.”

“Mr. Monahan, it doesn’t matter if you don’t want to press charges. She made the false report to the police.”

“Well, I won’t cooperate and I’ll hire the best fucking lawyer in the country to stop you from getting the video. You want that fight?”

“You know, sir, I could also charge you with recording a sexual encounter without both parties’ knowledge and consent.”

Monahan computed the ramifications of that for a few moments before speaking.

“Uh, don’t you think decisions like this are above your pay grade, Detective?”

“You want me to call my commander? Or better yet, the sex harassment task force that leaks to the media like a sieve? If you want, I’ll call the chief of police at home. I’m sure everybody on the food chain will be totally discreet about this.”