Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(5)

Ballard closed the drawers, pushed in the lock, and went back to the desk she had been using. She remained intrigued by Bosch’s middle-of-the-night visit. She knew he had used the paper clip to unlock the file cabinet, and that indicated he had more than a casual interest in the contents of its drawers. His nostalgic story about checking out his old files had been a lie.

She picked up the coffee cup on the desk and walked down the hall to the first-floor break room to replenish it. The room was empty, as usual. She refilled and carried the cup over to the watch office. Lieutenant Munroe was at his desk, looking at a deployment screen that showed a map of the division and the GPS markers for the patrol units out there. He didn’t hear Ballard until she came up behind him.

“Quiet?” she asked.

“For the moment,” Munroe said.

Ballard pointed to a cluster of three GPS locators in the same spot.

“What’s happening there?”

“That’s the Mariscos Reyes truck. I’ve got three units code seven there.”

It was a lunch break at a food truck at Sunset and Western. It made Ballard realize she had not taken a food break and was getting hungry. She wasn’t sure she wanted seafood, however.

“So, what did Bosch want?”

“He wanted to talk to the Relic about a body he found nine years ago. I take it Bosch is looking into it.”

“He said he’s still a cop. Not for us, right?”

“Nah, he’s a reserve up in the Valley for San Fernando PD.”

“What’s San Fernando got to do with a murder down here?”

“I don’t know, Ballard. You shoulda asked him while he was here. He’s gone now.”

“That was quick.”

“Because the Relic couldn’t remember shit.”

“Is Dvorek back out there?”

Munroe pointed to the three-car cluster on the screen.

“He’s back out, but code seven at the moment.”

“I was thinking about going over there, getting a couple shrimp tacos. You want me to bring you back something?”

“No, I’m good. Take a rover with you.”

“Roger that.”

On the way back to the D bureau she stopped in the break room and dumped the coffee in the sink and rinsed out the cup. She then pulled a rover out of the charging rack and headed out the back door of the station to her city car. The mid-watch chill had set in and she got her suit jacket out of the trunk and put it on before driving out of the lot.

The Relic was still parked at the food truck when Ballard arrived. As a sergeant, Dvorek rode in a solo car, so he had a tendency to hang with other officers on break for the company.

“Sally Ride,” he said, when he noticed Ballard studying the chalkboard menu.

“What’s up, Sarge?” she said.

“Halfway through another night in paradise.”

“Yeah.”

Ballard ordered one shrimp taco and doused it liberally with one of the hot sauces from the condiment table. She took it over to Dvorek’s black-and-white, where he was leaning against the front fender and finishing his own meal. Two other patrol officers were eating on the hood of their car, parked in front of his.

Ballard leaned against the fender next to him.

“Whatcha get?” Dvorek asked.

“Shrimp,” Ballard said. “I only order off the blackboard. Means it’s fresh, right? They don’t know what they’ll have until they buy it at the docks.”

“If you think so.”

“I need to think so.”

She took her first bite. It was good and there was no fishy taste.

“Not bad,” she said.

“I had the fish special,” Dvorek said. “It’s probably going to take me off the street as soon as it gets down into the lower track.”

“T.M.I., Sarge. But speaking of coming in off the street, what did that guy Bosch want with you?”

“You saw him?”

“I caught him snooping in the files in the D bureau.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of desperate. Looking for any angle on a case he’s working.”

“In Hollywood? I thought he worked for San Fernando PD these days.”

“He does. But this is a private thing he’s looking into. A girl who got killed here nine years ago. I was the one who found the body, but damn if I could remember much that helped him.”

Ballard took another bite and started nodding. She asked the next question with her mouth full of shrimp and tortilla.

“Who was the girl?” she asked.

“A runaway. Name was Daisy. She was fifteen and putting it out on the street. Sad case. I used to see her on Hollywood up near Western. One night she got into the wrong car. I found her body in an alley off of Cahuenga. Came in on an anonymous call—I do remember that.”

“Was that her street name?”

“No, the real thing. Daisy Clayton.”

“Was Cesar Rivera working the sex table back then?”

“Cesar? I’m not sure. We’re talking nine years ago. He coulda been.”

“Well, did you remember Cesar having anything to do with the case? Bosch picked his file cabinet.”

Dvorek shrugged.

“I found the body and called it in, Renée—that’s it,” he said. “I had no part in it after that. I remember they sent me down to the end of the alley to string tape and keep people out. I was just a slick sleeve.”