Clarke stood up, grabbed his recorder, and left the room.
Robinson-Reynolds continued to stare at Ballard.
“Turn that off,” he said.
Ballard started to reach for the last recorder.
“No,” Boswell said. “I don’t think that’s a — ”
“Turn it off,” Robinson-Reynold said. “And you can go. I have something to say to Ballard that doesn’t leave this room.”
Boswell turned to Ballard.
“You want me to stay, I’ll stay,” she said.
“That’s okay, I’ll listen,” Ballard said.
“I’ll be right outside.”
“Thanks.”
Boswell got up and left the room. Ballard turned off the recorder.
“Ballard,” Robinson-Reynolds said. “I find it hard to believe that you set this up to kill those two assholes. But if I find out you did, I’m coming after you.”
Ballard held his gaze for a long moment before replying.
“And you’d be wrong — just like you’re wrong about me leaking to the Times,” she said. “And men like those two? They got off easy. I’d rather they rotted in prison the rest of their lives than get off the way they did.”
“Well, we’ll see about them,” he said. “And I already know who the leak to the Times was.”
“Who?”
Robinson-Reynolds didn’t answer. He left the door open as he left.
“Nice working with you, too,” Ballard said to the empty room.
She pocketed her recorder and stepped out herself. Boswell was waiting for her in the squad room. Ballard saw Lisa Moore and Ronin Clarke at the CAPs pod along with the others assigned to the task force. The whole team had been called in to handle the investigation of the two men Ballard had shot. If Robinson-Reynolds had unmasked Moore as the leak to the Times, he had apparently not done anything about it yet.
“He say anything I should know about?” Boswell asked.
“Nothing worth repeating,” Ballard said. “Thanks for what you did in there. You kicked ass.”
“I’ve been going head-to-head with Sanderson for four years. He’s all bluster. The only thing intimidating about him is his breath, and thank god he had to wear a mask.”
Ballard couldn’t hold back her smile, even if it was hidden by her own mask.
“So he was the smoker,” Ballard said. “I thought it was Dupree.”
“Nope, Sanderson,” Boswell said. “So, now, the bad news. I can no longer represent you since you are no longer an officer.”
“Right. I understand.”
“I can recommend a good lawyer on the outside should you need one.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t think you will, because I don’t think there’s any question about your actions. They were the definition of self-defense. And taking off my lawyer hat for a moment here, it was you who kicked ass today, Renée.”
“Things didn’t turn out the way I’d planned.”
“Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No, I think I have somebody waiting out there.”
“Okay. Pleasure doing business with you.”
They bumped fists and Boswell headed to the front exit. Ballard walked over to the Sex Assault pod. Lisa Moore did not look up, though Ballard knew she had seen her approach. Clarke now had his mask off. He used his thumb and forefinger to pantomime shooting a gun, blowing into the barrel, then holstering the weapon like an Old West shooter.
“You guys get IDs on those two yet?” Ballard asked.
“Working on it,” Clarke said. “But L-T gave us orders. We can’t talk to you now.”
Ballard nodded.
“Yeah, I get it,” she said.
She left the squad room for what she assumed would be the last time, heading toward the front exit, which took her by the lieutenant’s office. Robinson-Reynolds was behind his desk, mask off, talking on his landline. She held his eyes as she walked by. She said nothing.
Bosch was waiting in front of the station, leaning against the side of his old Cherokee.
“All good?” he asked.
“For now,” Ballard said. “But this isn’t over.”
45
On Wednesday morning Ballard and Bosch were at the international terminal at LAX, awaiting the arrival of AeroMexico flight 3598 from Cancún. Bosch was in a suit and was holding a piece of paper Ballard had printed with the name gilbert denning on it. They were standing outside the baggage and U.S. Customs exit, where professional drivers waited for their clients. The flight had landed thirty-five minutes earlier but there had been no sign of Denning yet. Ballard had a photo of him on her phone that she had gotten from Hannah Stovall. But with the mask requirement, it was hard to match a half face to the photo.