Dark Sacred Night (Harry Bosch Universe #31)(82)

“You shouldn’t go on your own. I’ll go too.”

“You have Tranquillo Cortez to worry about.”

“No, I don’t. I’m just sitting here waiting. But my car’s still at my house. Can you pick me up on the way?”

“Sure. Give me a couple hours to go see my dog.”

“Anything on the GRASP files?”

“Yeah, I picked them up yesterday before the shit hit the fan with you. The professor gave me a thumb drive. I printed hard copies for you before I left work this morning.”

“Good. Did you take a look?”

“Not a deep dive. I did see there was a murder two days before Daisy. But the suspect was in custody before Daisy disappeared.”

“We should probably look at it anyway.”

“I ordered the book last night. Before heading up to you, I’ll see if it’s landed.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Good.”

“And Renée?”

“Yes?”

“You saved my life yesterday. When I was in that cage…all I could think about was my daughter and her being alone…and all the things I was going to miss being with her for…anyway, thank you. It’s not much but…yeah, thank you.”

Ballard nodded.

“You know what I was thinking about, Harry? I was thinking about all the cases that would never get solved if you were gone. You still have work to do.”

“I guess. Maybe.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Ballard disconnected and rolled off the bed. She started getting ready to go see her dog.





39



Bosch was waiting in front of the SFPD headquarters when Ballard pulled up in her van. He eyed the boards on the roof racks as he approached and opened the door. Ballard noticed that the bruise under his eye was now a deep purple and he had a row of butterfly sutures on his upper left cheek.

Bosch got in and checked out the back of the van while pulling his seatbelt over his shoulder.

“Is this like a Scooby-Doo van or something?” he asked. “The surfboards and stuff?”

“No,” Ballard said. “But I thought if I brought my city ride, our guy might see it and rabbit before the interview.”

“You have a point.”

“Besides, it saved me having to go into the station. I called to check on the ZooToo murder book and it hasn’t landed yet. On Saturdays they cut the courier runs in half.”

“‘ZooToo’?”

“It was the name of the tattoo shop where the murder went down.”

“Got it.”

“So, do you think it was wise to be standing out front of the police station like that?”

“If you’re not safe at a police station, then where are you safe? Anyway, how do you want to handle this guy?”

Ballard had been thinking about that for the thirty minutes it took her to get from Hollywood to San Fernando.

“This guy isn’t going to know what this is about,” she said. “So I’m thinking we identify ourselves upfront and draw him in with the Good Samaritan play.”

“‘Good Samaritan play’?” Bosch said.

“Come on, you must’ve done it a million times. Make the guy think he’s helping the police. Draw him in and lock in his story, then turn it upside down. He goes from hero to zero.”

Bosch nodded.

“Got it,” he said. “We always called that the rope a dope.”

“Same thing,” Ballard said.

They discussed the play further as Ballard drove across the north end of the Valley toward Canoga Park, the community where more than half of the world’s legally sanctioned pornography production was located.

They arrived at Beatrice Beaupre’s unmarked warehouse twenty-five minutes before Kurt Pascal was due. Beaupre opened the studio door. She was black with startling green eyes that Ballard thought were probably contacts. The short dreadlocks were new since Ballard had last seen her. She looked past Ballard at Bosch and frowned.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing somebody,” she said.

“This is my partner on the case,” Ballard said. “Detective Harry Bosch.”

Bosch nodded but remained quiet.

“Well, just as long as we’re clear,” Beaupre said. “I run a business here and I don’t want any trouble. To me, a man means trouble. We already have one coming in, so you, Harry Bosch, you chill out.”

Bosch held his hands up in surrender.

“You’re the boss,” he said.

“Damn right,” Beaupre said. “Only reason I’m doing this and putting my neck out is because your partner saved my skinny ass from death’s door last year. I owe her and I’m going to pay up today.”

Bosch looked at Ballard with a raised eyebrow.

“She saves more people than John the Baptist,” he said.

The joke fell on deaf ears with Beaupre but Ballard stifled a laugh.

They walked past the door to the room Ballard remembered as being Beaupre’s office and continued down a hall, passing a framed poster for a movie called Operation Desert Stormy, which depicted porn star Stormy Daniels straddling a missile in a bathing suit. Ballard scanned the credits for Beaupre’s name but didn’t see it.