innocent, he knew he was morally culpable. Pounds was a man he despised, had less respect for than some of the murderers he had known. But the weight of the guilt was bearing down on him. He ran his hands hard over his face and through his hair. He felt a shudder move through his body.

“Are you all right?” Hinojos asked.

“I’m fine.”

Bosch took out his cigarettes and started to light one with his Bic.

“Harry, you better not. This isn’t my office.”

“I don’t care. Where was he found?”

“What?”

“Pounds! Where was he found?”

“I don’t know. You mean where was the car? I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

She studied him and he noticed the hand that held his cigarette was shaking.

“All right, Harry, that’s it. What’s the matter? What is going on?”

Bosch looked at her for a long moment and nodded.

“Okay, you want to know? I did it. I killed him.”

Her face immediately reacted as if perhaps she had seen the killing firsthand, so close that she had been spattered with blood. It was a horrible face. Repulsed. And she moved back in her chair as if even a few more inches of separation from him were needed.

“You…you mean this story about Florida was—”

“No. I don’t mean I killed him. Not with my hands. I mean what I’ve done, what I’ve been doing. It got him killed. I got him killed.”

“How do you know? You can’t know for sure that—”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

He looked away from her to a painting on the wall over the banquette. It was a generic depiction of a beach scene. He looked back at Hinojos.

“It’s funny…,” he said but didn’t finish. He just shook his head.

“What is?”

He got up and reached to the potted palm and stubbed the cigarette out in the dark soil.

“What is funny, Harry?”

He sat back down and looked at her.

“The civilized people in the world, the ones who hide behind culture and art and politics…and even the law, they’re the ones to watch out for. They’ve got that perfect disguise goin’ for them, you know? But they’re the most vicious. They’re the most dangerous people on earth.”

Chapter Thirty-four

IT SEEMED TO BOSCH that the day would never end, that he would never get out of the conference room. After Hinojos left, it was Irving’s turn. He came in silently, took the Brockman seat and folded his hands on the table and said nothing. He looked irritated. Bosch thought maybe he smelled the smoke. Bosch didn’t care about that but he found the silence discomforting.

“What about Brockman?”

“He’s gone. You heard me tell him, he blew it. So did you.”

“How’s that?”

“You could’ve talked your way out of it. Could’ve let him check your story and be done with it. But you had to make another enemy. You had to be Harry Bosch.”

“That’s where you and I differ, Chief. You oughta get out of the office and come out on the street again sometime. I didn’t make Brockman an enemy. He was my enemy before I even met him. They all are. And, you know, I’m really getting tired of everybody analyzing me and sticking their noses up my ass. It’s getting real old.”

“Somebody’s got to do it. You don’t.”

“You don’t know a thing about it.”

Irving waved Bosch’s pale defense away like cigarette smoke.

“So what now?” Bosch continued. “Why are you here? You going to try to break my alibi now? Is that it? Brockman’s out and you’re in?”

“I don’t need to break your alibi. It’s been checked and it looks like it holds. Brockman and his people have already been instructed to follow other avenues of investigation.”

“What do you mean, it’s been checked?”

“Give us some credit here, Bosch. The names were in your notebook.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out the notebook. He tossed it across the table to Bosch.

“This woman that you spent some time with over there, she told me enough to the point that I believed it. You might want to call her yourself, though. She certainly seemed confused by my call. I was rather circumspect in my explanation.”

“I appreciate that. So, then, I guess I’m free to split?”

Bosch stood up.

“In a technical sense.”

“And the other senses?”

“Sit down for a minute, Detective.”

Bosch held his hands up. He’d gone this far. He decided he might as well go all the way and hear it all. He sat back down in his chair with a meager protest.

“My butt’s getting sore from all this sitting.”

“I knew Jake McKittrick,” Irving said. “Knew him well. We