Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(60)

“Is there a car we should be looking for?” Herrera asked.

“Patrol supposedly looked at it on the first welfare check,” Ballard said. “Opened the trunk too. It’s in the garage underneath. But I’ll include it in the warrant and we’ll check it again.”

“You think you have enough for a warrant?” Dyson asked.

Ballard shrugged.

“If I don’t, I left my flashlight up there,” she said. “I’ll go back and wake him up.”





27



Superior Court Judge Carolyn Wickwire was Ballard’s go-to. She wasn’t always the night-call judge but she liked Ballard and had given her a cell number, telling her she could always call day or night. Wickwire had been a cop, then a prosecutor, and was now a judge in a long career inside the justice system. Ballard guessed that she had persevered through her own share of misogyny and discrimination every step of the way. Though Ballard had never mentioned the obstacles she herself had encountered and overcome, some were known in the law enforcement community, and she believed Judge Wickwire was aware of them and empathized. There was a kinship there and Ballard wasn’t above using it if it helped move things along on a case. She called Wickwire from the building’s entry vestibule and woke her up.

“Judge Wickwire, I’m sorry to wake you. It’s Detective Ballard, LAPD.”

“Oh, Renée, it’s been a while. Are you all right?”

“Yes, it has, and I’m fine. But I need to get a telephonic search warrant approved.”

“Okay, okay. Just hold on a minute. Let me get my glasses and wake up a bit.”

Ballard was put on hold. While she waited, Herrera came over, having just run Prada’s name through the MDT terminal in her patrol car.

“Can you talk?”

“While I’m on hold. Anything?”

“Just some TVs back in New Jersey and New York. Nothing serious.”

Traffic violations. Ballard knew they would not help her get a search warrant approval from the judge.

“Okay,” she said. “I still need you to stick around if I get this. Can you find out if there’s an on-site manager?”

“Roger that,” Herrera said.

She headed off just as Wickwire came back on the line.

“Now, what do we have here, Renée?”

“This is a missing persons case but I think there’s foul play involved and need to get into the missing man’s condominium and the common areas of the building. It’s complicated because a person of interest in the disappearance is the missing man’s roommate.”

“Are they a couple or just roommates?”

“Just roommates. Separate bedrooms.”

“Okay. Tell me what you got.”

Ballard recounted her investigation, putting the facts in an order that would intrigue the judge and build toward a conclusion of probable cause. She said Jacob Cady had now been missing for forty-eight hours and was not responding to any communication, ranging from his cell phone to his business website. She told the judge that the man living in Cady’s condo had given a false name but left out Prada’s explanation that he was in the process of legally changing it. She said Prada had expressed a reluctance to cooperate, leaving out that he had been awakened by her at one a.m.

Lastly, she mentioned the rug and her suspicion that it had been moved to cover up something.

When she was finished, Wickwire was silent as she digested Ballard’s verbal probable cause statement. Finally, she spoke.

“Renée, I don’t think you have it,” she said. “You have some interesting facts and suspicions but no evidence of foul play here.”

“Well, I’m trying to get that, Judge,” Ballard said. “I want to find out why the rug was moved.”

“But you have the cart before the horse here. You know I like to help you when I can, but this is too thin.”

“What would you need? The guy’s not texting or tweeting, he’s not driving his car, he’s not handling his business. It looks like he left all his clothes behind. Something’s clearly happened.”

“I’m not arguing that. But you have no indication of what happened. This guy could be on a nude beach down in Baja where he doesn’t need a change of clothes. He could be in love. He could be in a lot of things. The point is, there’s a person living in his domicile and you do not have the right to search that domicile without probable cause.”

“Okay, Judge, thank you. I’m probably going to call you back after I get what you need.”

She disconnected the call. Dyson was standing there.

“No on-site management,” she said.

“Okay,” Ballard said. “See if you and Herrera can get down into the garage and take a look around.”

“Did you get the warrant?”

“No. I’m going up for my flashlight. If you don’t hear from me in about ten, come on up.”

“Roger that.”

Ballard took the elevator back to three and knocked on Jacob Cady’s door. After a few moments she heard movement inside and then Prada’s voice through the door.

“Oh my god! What?”

“Mr. Prada, can you open the door?”

“What do you want now?”