Lost light - By Michael Connelly Page 0,67

picking up the voices from the television better than those in the room.

“Andre,” Burnett said, quieting his son’s complaint. “Just see if you can clean it up some.”

Andre used the mouse again to manipulate the sound. He backed the image up and played it again. The television noise was still intrusive but at least the conversation in the room was audible.

Danny Cross spoke with a sharp tone in her voice.

“I don’t want him coming back here,” she said. “He’s not good for you.”

“Yes, he is. He’s fine. He cares.”

“He’s using you. He pours booze into you so he gets the information he needs.”

“So what’s wrong with that? I think it’s a good trade.”

“Yes, until the morning, when the pain comes.”

“Danny, if one of my friends comes here, you let him in.”

“What did you tell him this time, that I’m starving you? That I abandon you at night? Which lie this time?”

“I don’t want to talk now.”

“Fine. Don’t talk.”

“I want to dream.”

“Be my guest. At least one of us still can.”

She turned and left the room and the picture held on Lawton’s motionless body. Soon his eyes closed.

“There’s a sixty-second cutoff,” Andre explained. “The camera stays on for a minute after motion ceases.”

“Fast-forward,” I said.

We spent the next ten minutes fast-forwarding and then stopping to watch mundane yet heart-ripping scenes of Lawton being fed and cleaned by Danny. At the end of the first night he was wheeled out by his wife and the camera went dark for nearly eight hours before he was wheeled back into the room. A new round of feedings and cleanings began.

It was horrible to look at, made more so because the clock was positioned just to the left of the television. Lawton Cross spent his time looking at the TV but the angle was so close it almost looked like he was staring up at the camera, looking right at us.

“This is pathetic,” Andre finally said. “And there’s nothing here. She treats him fine. Better than I would.”

“You want to see it through, Harry?” Burnett asked.

I nodded.

“I think you’re right. She’s clean. But there’s something coming up. He had visitors last night. I want to see that. You can fast-forward if you want. It was near midnight.”

Andre worked the toggle and sure enough at 12:10 A.M. on the surveillance clock two men entered the room. I recognized Parenting Today and his partner. The first thing Parenting Today did was walk behind Lawton to turn off the baby monitor on the bureau. He then signaled his partner to close the door. Lawton’s eyes were open and alert. He’d been awake before they had come into the room and the camera had activated. His eyes moved about in their sunken sockets as he tried to track the agent moving behind him.

“Mr. Cross, we need to have a little talk,” Parenting Today said.

He moved forward past Cross’s chair and reached up and turned off the television.

“Thank God for that,” Andre said.

“Who are you people?” Cross rasped from the screen.

Parenting Today turned and looked at him.

“We’re the FBI, Mr. Cross. Who the fuck are you?”

“What do you mean? I don’t —”

“I mean who the fuck do you think you are, compromising our investigation?”

“I don’t—what is this?”

“What did you tell Bosch that put the fire under his ass?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He came to me, I didn’t go to him.”

“Doesn’t look like you can go anywhere now, does it?”

There was a short silence and I could see Lawton’s eyes working. The man couldn’t move a single limb but his eyes showed all the body language necessary.

“You’re not FBI,” he said gallantly. “Let me see badges and IDs.”

Parenting Today moved two steps toward Cross, his back blocking our view of the man in the chair.

“Badges?” he said in his best Mexican accent. “We don’t need no steenking badges.”

“Get out of here,” Cross said, his voice the clearest and strongest I had heard since I first visited him. “When I tell Harry Bosch about this, you better watch your ass.”

Parenting Today turned in profile to smile at his partner.

“Harry Bosch? Don’t worry about Harry Bosch. We’re taking care of him. Worry about yourself, Mr. Cross.”

He leaned down now, putting his face close to Cross’s. We now could see Lawton’s eyes as they looked into the agent’s.

“Because you are in harm’s way. You are trespassing on a federal case. That is federal with a capital F. You understand?”

“Fuck you. And that is fuck you with a capital F. You understand?”

I

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