The concrete blonde - By Michael Connelly Page 0,132
don't want you to look at me! Turn around, look at the screen.”
Bosch obediently looked at the blank screen.
“You're a leftie, right? With your right hand take out your gun and slide it across the floor this way.”
Bosch carefully followed the orders. He thought he heard Mora pick the gun up off the floor.
“You fucks think I'm the Follower.”
“Look, I'm not going to lie to you, Ray, we were checking you out, that's all… . I know now, I know we're wrong. You—”
“The kosher burrito boys. Somebody ought to teach them how to follow a fucking suspect. They don't know shit … took me a while but I figured something was going down after I saw them.”
“So we're wrong about you, right, Ray?”
“You have to ask, Bosch? After what you just saw? The answer is, yeah, you got your head up your ass. Whose idea was it to check me out? Eyman? Leiby?”
Eyman and Leiby were the co-commanders of Administrative Vice.
“No. It came from me. It was my call.”
A long moment of silence followed this confession.
“Then maybe I ought to just blow your head off right here. Be within my rights, wouldn't it?”
“Look, Ray—”
“Don't!”
Bosch stopped from turning all the way and looked back at the television.
“You do that, Ray, and your life unalterably changes. You know that.”
“It did that as soon as you broke in, Bosch. Why shouldn't I just take it to the logical conclusion? Cap you and just disappear.”
“'Cause you're a cop, Ray.”
“Am I? Am I still going to be a cop if I let you go? You going to kneel there and tell me you'll make it right for me?”
“Ray, I don't know what to tell you. Those kids on the video are underage. But I only know that because of an illegal search. You end this now and put away the gun, we can work something out.”
“Yeah, Harry? Can everything go back to the way it was? The badge is all I've got. I can't give—”
“Ray. I—”
“Shut up! Just shut up! I'm trying to think.”
Bosch felt the anger hitting him in the back like rain.
“You know my secret, Bosch. How the fuck does that make you feel?”
Bosch had no answer. His mind was tumbling, trying to come up with the next move, the next sentence, when he flinched at the sound of Sheehan's voice coming over the rover in his pocket.
“We lost him. He's not in the theater.”
There was a sharp degree of urgency in Sheehan's voice.
Bosch and Mora were silent, listening.
“What do you mean, Team One?” Rollenberger's voice said.
“Who's that?” Mora asked.
“Rollenberger, RHD,” Bosch answered.
Sheehan's voice said, “The movie got out ten minutes ago. People came out but he didn't. I went in, he's gone. His car is still here but he's gone.”
“I thought one of you went in?” Rollenberger barked, his own voice tightening with panic.
“We did, but we lost him,” Sheehan said.
“Liar,” Mora said. A long moment of silence followed before he said, “Now, they'll probably start hitting the hotels, looking for me. Because to them, I'm the Follower.”
“Yes,” Bosch said. “But they know I'm here, Ray. I should call in.”
As if on cue, Sheehan's voice came from the rover.
“Team Six?”
“That's Sheehan, Ray. I'm Six.”
“Call him. Be careful, Harry.”
Bosch slowly took the radio out of his pocket with his right hand and held it up to his mouth. He pressed the transmitter.
“One, did you find him?”
“Negative. In the wind. What's on TV?”
“Nothing. There's nothing on tonight.”
“Then you ought to leave the house and help us out.”
“Already on the way,” Bosch said quickly. “Where are you at?”
“Bo—uh, Team Six, this is Team Leader, we need you to come in. We're bringing in the task force to help locate the suspect. All units will meet at the Dome parking lot.”
“Be there in ten. Out.”
He dropped his arm back to his side.
“A whole task force, huh?” Mora asked.
Bosch looked down and nodded.
“Look, Ray, that was all code. They know I went to your house. If I don't show up at the Dome in ten minutes they'll come looking for me here. What do you want to do?”
“I don't know … but I guess that gives me at least fifteen minutes to decide, doesn't it?”
“Sure, Ray. Take your time. Don't make a mistake.”
“Too late for that,” he said, almost wistfully. Then he added, “Tell you what. Take out the tape.”
Bosch ejected the tape and held it up over his left shoulder to Mora.
“No, no, I want you to do this for me, Harry. Open the bottom drawer