her, which you seem to have imbued with a happiness I’m sure was not always there. The second part is your life after, which you acknowledge has not met expectations or is in some way unsatisfactory. I think you’ve been unhappy for a long time, possibly all of that time. This recent relationship you had may have been a highlight but you were still and, I think, have always been, an unhappy man.”

She rested a moment but Bosch didn’t speak. He knew she wasn’t done.

“Now, maybe the traumas of the last few years—both personally for you and for your community at large—have made you take stock of yourself. And I fear that you believe, whether subconsciously or not, that by going back and bringing some form of justice to what happened to your mother, you will be righting your life. And there’s the problem. Whatever happens with this private investigation of yours, it’s not going to change things. It just can’t be done.”

“You’re saying that I can’t blame what happened then for what I am now?”

“No, listen to me, Harry. All I’m saying is you are the sum of many parts, not the sum of one. It’s like dominoes. Several different blocks must click together for you to arrive at the end, at the point you are at now. You don’t jump from the first domino to the last.”

“So I should just give it up? Just let it go?”

“I’m not saying that. But I am finding it hard to see the emotional benefit or healing you will get from this. In fact, I think there is the possibility that you may do yourself more damage than repair. Does that make any sense?”

Bosch stood up and went to the window. He stared out but didn’t compute what he saw. He felt the warmth of the sun on him. He didn’t look at her as he spoke.

“I don’t know what makes sense. All I know is that on every level it seems to make sense that I do this. In fact, I feel…I don’t know what the word is, maybe ashamed. I feel ashamed that I haven’t done this long before now. A lot of years have gone by and I just let them go. I feel like I let her down somehow…that I let myself down.”

“That’s understa—”

“Remember what I told you the first day? Everybody counts or nobody counts. Well, for a long time she didn’t count. Not with this department, this society, not even with me. I have to admit that, not even with me. Then I opened that file this week and I could see that her death was just put away. It was buried, just like I had buried it. Somebody put the fix in because she didn’t count. They did it because they could. And then when I think about how long I’ve let it go…it makes me want to…I don’t know, just hide my face or something.”

He stopped, unable to put into words what he wanted to say. He looked down and noticed there were no ducks in the butcher shop window.

“You know,” he said, “she might’ve been what she was but sometimes I feel like I didn’t even deserve that…I guess I got what I deserved in life.”

He stayed at the window, not looking at her. It was several moments before Hinojos spoke.

“I guess this is the point where I should tell you that you’re being too hard on yourself, but I don’t think that would help much.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Could you come back here and sit down? Please?”

Bosch did as he was asked. Finally, after he was seated, his eyes met hers. She spoke first.

“What I want to say is that you are mixing things up. Putting the cart before the horse. You can’t take the blame because this case may have been covered up. First of all, you had nothing to do with that, and secondly, you didn’t even realize that until you read through the file this week.”

“But don’t you see? Why didn’t I look at it before? I’m not new here. I’ve been a cop twenty years. I should’ve been there before this. I mean, so what that I didn’t know the details. I knew she was killed and nothing was ever done about it. That was enough.”

“Look, Harry, think about this, okay? On the plane over tonight, just give it some thought. You’ve engaged yourself in a noble pursuit but you have to safeguard against damaging yourself further. The bottom line