Ballard started to laugh. Bosch hit the button again.
“What?” he asked.
“You surprise me, Harry, that’s all,” Ballard said. “I didn’t think you listened to anything recorded this century.”
“That hurts, Ballard.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll be right back.”
9
Ballard was in the garage of her condominium complex, grabbing her kit bag out of the back, the printouts from Bosch under her arm, when a man approached her. She tensed as she scanned the garage and saw no one else around. Her gun was in the kit bag.
“Hello, neighbor,” the man said. “I just wanted to introduce myself. You’re twenty-three, right?”
She knew he meant her apartment number. She’d been in the building just a few months, and though there were only twenty-five units, she had not yet met all of her neighbors.
“Uh, yeah, hi,” she said. “Renée.”
They bumped elbows.
“I’m Nate in thirteen, right below you,” he said. “Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year to you,” Ballard said.
“My partner is Robert. He said he met you when you were moving stuff in.”
“Oh, right, yeah, I met Robert. He helped me get a table into the elevator.”
“And he said you’re a cop.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I guess it’s not a great time to be a cop these days.”
“It has its moments. Not all good, not all bad.”
“Just so you know, I did join the Black Lives Matter protest. Don’t hold it against me.”
“I won’t. And I agree, Black lives matter.”
Ballard noticed he was carrying a helmet and wearing cycling gear, including the tight biking shorts with padding in the butt that look awkward whenever you’re off the bike. She wanted to change the subject without being rude to a neighbor.
“You ride?” she asked.
It was a dumb question but the best she could manage.
“Every chance I can,” Nate said. “But I sure see that you have a different hobby.”
He pointed to the boards Ballard had propped against the garage wall in front of her Defender. One was her paddleboard for flat days, the other her Rusty Mini Tanker for surfing the Sunset break. The rest of her boards were in the condo’s storage room, but her closet was full and she knew leaving her most used boards in the garage risked theft. She hoped the cameras on the exits were a deterrent.
“Yeah, I guess I like the beach,” she said, immediately not liking her answer.
“Well, good to meet you and welcome,” Nate said. “I should also tell you I’m current president of the homeowners association. I know you rent from the corporate owners — we approved that — but if you need anything HOA-related, knock on my door on the first floor.”
“Oh, okay. I will.”
“And I hope to see you at one of the mixers down in the courtyard.”
“I haven’t heard about that.”
“First Friday of every month, not including today, of course. Happy hour. It’s BYOB but people share.”
“Okay, good. Maybe I’ll see you there. And nice to meet you.”
“Happy New Year!”
“Same.”
Ballard was still getting used to having neighbors and felt awkward during the meet and greets — especially when it came out that she was a cop. She had spent most of the last four years alternating between a tent on Venice Beach and using her grandmother’s house in Ventura for sleeping. But Covid-19 shut the beaches, while the growing homeless population in Venice made it a place she didn’t want to be. She had rented the apartment, which was only ten minutes from the station. But it meant having neighbors above and below and to the left and right.
Nate headed toward the elevator, while she decided on the stairs so she wouldn’t have to ride with him and make more small talk. Her phone started to buzz and she struggled to pull it from her pocket without dropping the paperwork from Bosch. She saw on the screen that it was Lisa Moore calling.
“Fuck me,” Lisa said by way of hello.
“What’s wrong, Lisa?” Ballard asked.
“We got a case and I’m five minutes from the Miramar with Kevin.”
Ballard interpreted that to mean the Midnight Men had claimed another victim and Moore was almost to the resort in Santa Barbara with her boyfriend, a sergeant at Olympic Division.
“What’s the case?” she asked.
“The victim didn’t call it in till an hour ago,” Moore said. “I thought we were clear.”