She checked the garage last, moving completely around the Audi and looking in and under it. She found no sign of a break-in.
Back inside, she surveyed the house once more, looking for the best place to wait and be ready. She decided on the home office because it was the most centrally located room and it also offered two options for hiding should an intrusion occur. There was a closet with a sliding door that had a large unused space. And along the wall to the left of the doorway, there was a standing four-drawer file cabinet that provided a blind from the entrance.
Ballard took the desk chair and sat down. She put the gun down on the desk and pulled her phone. She called Lisa Moore, though she did not expect her to take the call — not after the message Ballard had left the Thursday before. The call went to voice mail and Ballard disconnected. She then wrote a text.
Lisa, call me back if you want to have a part in taking down the MM. I’m sitting on the next victim’s house. Are you working tonight?
She sent off the message, satisfied that she had at least given Moore the chance to be involved in her own case. She next called Neumayer’s desk phone because she didn’t have his cell. And the first flaw in her hasty plan emerged. The call went to voice mail and she heard Neumayer’s voice: “This is Detective Neumayer. I am going to be out of town until January nineteenth and will respond to your call then. If this is an emergency, dial nine-one-one. If this is about an ongoing case, please call the direct line to the detective bureau and ask for Detective Moore or Detective Clarke. Thank you.”
Ballard knew she should now call Robinson-Reynolds or at the very least Ronin Clarke, but she did neither. She decided to wait and see if she got a call back from Lisa Moore.
Her rash and incomplete planning was now beginning to weigh on Ballard. She thought about calling Bosch and taking him up on his offer to be there as backup. But she knew she couldn’t leave Hannah Stovall unguarded, no matter how unlikely it was that the Midnight Men knew her current location. She tried to examine her motives in moving so quickly with a plan that was so incomplete. She knew it was all wound up in her growing disillusion with the job, the department, the people that surrounded her. But not with Bosch. Bosch was the constant. He was more steadfast than the whole department.
She tried to push the grim thoughts away by pulling up the video from the playroom at Dog House to check on Pinto. The image on the screen was grainy and small but she managed to see Pinto lying low under a bench, watching the action of the other dogs, possibly too timid to join in. She had quickly reached a point where she loved the little dog, and she wondered why someone had mistreated and abandoned him.
Somehow, in the crosscurrents of thought, she came to a decision. Maybe it was all in the moment, but she knew the moment had been a long time coming.
She clicked off the video feed and composed a short email to Lieutenant Robinson-Reynolds. She reread it twice before hitting the send button.
Immediately, she was flooded with a feeling of relief and certainty. She had made the right decision. There was no looking back.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a call back from Lisa Moore’s cell number.
“What the fuck are you doing, Renée?”
“What am I doing? Let’s see. I got a solid lead and I’m following it. I know that may sound like out-of-the-box thinking but — ”
“You’re suspended. You’re on the bench.”
“You think the Midnight Men are on the bench? You think you scared them away? Your little move last week to take the lieutenant down a notch just made them change things up, Lisa. They’re still out there, and I know where they’re going. They’re coming to me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll tell you what, stand by. I’ll call you when I need you.”
“Renée, listen to me. Something’s wrong. Your judgment is off. Wherever you are, you need backup and you need a plan. You’re giving the department all they need to get rid of you with a stunt like this. Don’t you see that?”
“It’s too late. I got rid of them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just quit. I sent the lieutenant my resignation.”
“You can’t do that, Renée. You’re too good a cop.”
“I already did.”
“Then, what are you doing right now? Get out of there and call in backup. You’re putting yourself in harm’s way. You — ”
“I’ve always been in harm’s way. But I’m not a cop anymore. That means no rules. I’ll call you when I need you. If I need you.”