Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(67)

“Defensive wounds,” Rogers said. “He held his hands up to ward off an attack.”

“We’ve got a righteous murder case,” Lee said.

They marked the location of these finds with flags and pressed on. By the time the van from the Medical Examiner’s Office and a crime scene team arrived, they had found two more bags containing the rest of the body and a third that contained the large knives and hacksaw that had been used during the dismemberment. Jacob Cady had been completely recovered for burial. It was one thing that would not have to haunt his family.

Ballard backed out to the table under the canopy, lowered her mask, and drank half a bottle of water in one pull. Lee came over as well. The searchers had moved out of the refuse so the coroner’s investigators and crime scene photographer could document everything.

“What a wonderful world,” Lee said.

“What a wonderful world,” Ballard repeated.

Lee opened a bottle of water and started gulping it down.

“Where are you with Tyldus?” Ballard asked.

“We got him on tape telling his self-defense story,” Lee said. “I’ve seen enough here to know it won’t hold up. He’s going down.”

“What about the victim’s parents? How much have you told them?”

“We told them that we had a guy in custody and they should prepare themselves. We didn’t get into the details of it yet. Now we will.”

“Glad it’s not me.”

“Why we get the big bucks. So you were in RHD a while back, right?”

“A few years, yeah.”

Lee didn’t say anything further, leaving the question of what happened hanging like landfill stink in the air.

“I didn’t go to the late show by choice,” Ballard said. “But it turns out I like what I’m doing.”

She left it at that. She took another drink from the water bottle and then pulled the breathing mask back into place. It felt like the mask and everything else was useless. The stench of the landfill was invading her pores. She knew that when she was finished here, she would shoot down the 118 freeway to Ventura and her grandmother’s house, where she planned to spend at least a half hour under the shower while double-washing her clothes. She was going to run the hot-water heater dry.

“I guess I’m out of here, Travis,” she said. “You’ve got the remains and I’ve got to get cleaned up before my shift.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Lee said.

He thanked her for volunteering and used a radio to call for an ATV to take her down to the parking lot and her van.

Lee went back into the pile to join his partner and monitor the investigation. As she waited for her ride, Ballard watched the two coroner’s investigators start to unfold a body bag. She hoped they had brought more than one. She turned from the scene and looked west. The sun was about to drop behind the ridge of the debris pile. The sky was orange above Sunshine Canyon.





Bosch





31



Bosch’s phone buzzed. The screen said UNKNOWN CALLER but he guessed it was Bella Lourdes again. The last two times, he had let the call go to message and she had left him voice mails saying she wanted to talk about his suspension and his taking the bullet for the Luzon plan they had both signed off on and taken part in. But Bosch didn’t want to talk about any of that yet.

He took another gulp of black coffee and kept his eyes on the entrance to the clinic on Van Nuys Boulevard. There had been a steady flow of activity there for the past two hours but Bosch had not seen Elizabeth Clayton among those wandering in and out. It would be eight p.m. soon and the clinic was due to close.

He checked his texts again. He had sent a message to his daughter, inquiring about his coming down on the train for a breakfast or a dinner, maybe even an Angels game over the weekend, but it had been forty minutes and there was no response. He had her schedule and knew she didn’t have night class but she could be studying in the library with her cell phone turned off. He thought about what Ballard had said about her not carrying the phone when she didn’t want to be tracked. He wondered if this was one of those times.

He opened up the tracking app on his phone, but before he could locate his daughter, the phone buzzed with another call. This time, the ID wasn’t blocked and he took the call.

“Renée, what’s up?”

“Hey, Harry, where are you at?”

He could tell she was driving.

“Van Nuys,” he said. “I’m watching a pain clinic, looking for Elizabeth.”

“I thought you said you tracked her to North Hollywood,” Ballard asked.

“I did but I was there last night. No sign. Tonight I’m watching a clinic she went to before. Maybe she’ll show. Where are you? Sounds like a freeway.”

“The 101 coming in from Ventura.”

She told him about the landfill dig and the need to clean up at her grandmother’s house.

“Am I going to see you later tonight at the shop?” she asked.

“Unless something happens here, I’ll be by,” Bosch said.

“I got a message from Professor Calder. He said he has the GRASP files on a thumb drive for us. He’ll have it with him at the school tomorrow. I’ll head back to USC after my shift if you’re interested in joining. We can print out hard copies for you.”