“You sure?” Moore said.
She said it a little too quickly and hopefully for Ballard.
“Yes, whatever,” Ballard said. “But you’re taking my shift, no questions asked, next time I need it.”
“Deal.”
“Let me ask you something. How did you do the cross-referencing of the first two victims? Interview, or did you have them fill out a Lambkin survey?”
“That thing’s eight pages long now with the updates. I wasn’t going to ask them to do that. I interviewed them and so did Ronin.”
Ronin Clarke was a detective with the Sexual Assault Unit. He and Moore weren’t partners in the traditional sense. They each carried their own caseload but backed each other up when needed.
“I think we should give them the survey,” Ballard said. “Things are different now. I think we had the victim acquisition wrong.”
There was silence from Moore. Ballard took this as disagreement, but Moore probably felt she could not voice an objection after having split town, leaving Ballard working the new case solo.
“Anyway, I’ll handle it,” Ballard said. “And I should go now. Got a lot to do and I have my shift tonight.”
“I’ll check in tomorrow,” Moore said helpfully. “And thank you so much, Renée. I will pay you back. You name the day, I’ll take your shift.”
Ballard disconnected and put on her mask. She got out with her briefcase. Bosch’s front door opened before she got to it.
“Saw you sitting out there,” Bosch said.
He stood back against the door so she could enter.
“I was just being a fool,” Ballard said.
“About what?” Bosch asked.
“My partner on the rapes. Allowing her to run off for the weekend with her boyfriend while I’m working two cases. I’m being stupid.”
“Where’d she go?”
“Santa Barbara.”
“Are places open up there?”
“I don’t think they plan on leaving the room much.”
“Oh. Well, like I said, I’m here and I can help. Wherever you need me.”
“I know. I appreciate it, Harry. It’s just the principle of it. She’s totally burned out. No empathy left. She should ask for a transfer from sex crimes.”
Bosch gestured toward the table in the dining room, where he already had his laptop open. They sat down facing each other. There was no music playing. Also on the table was a hardcover book with yellowed pages. It was Two of a Kind, by Darcy O’Brien.
“It does hollow you out, sex crimes,” Bosch said. “What’s happening since we talked?”
“It’s going upside down,” Ballard said. “Like I told you, three cases definitely linked, but this third one — it’s different from the first two. It changes things.”
Ballard put her briefcase on the floor next to her chair and slid out her laptop.
“You want to run it by me, since your partner is gone?” Bosch asked.
“What, are you like my favorite uncle that I never had?” Ballard asked. “Are you going to give me a dollar bill for candy when I leave?”
“Uh …”
“I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t mean — I’m just out of sorts with Lisa. I’m mad at myself for letting her skate like that.”
“That’s okay. I get it.”
“Can I still use your Wi-Fi?”
She opened her laptop and Bosch walked her through connecting to the Internet. His password to the Wi-Fi account was his old badge number, 2997. Ballard pulled up a blank copy of the Lambkin survey and sent it to Cindy Carpenter, getting her email off the report Black had sent her. She hoped Carpenter wouldn’t ignore it.
“You know what will teach your partner a lesson?” Bosch said. “Bagging these assholes before she gets back.”
“That’s highly unlikely. These guys … they’re good. And they just changed the game.”
“Tell me how.”
Ballard spent the next twenty minutes updating Bosch on the case, all the while thinking she should be updating Lisa Moore in such detail. When she was finished, Bosch had the same conclusion and opinion as Ballard. The investigation needed to shift. They had been wrong about the Midnight Men and how they acquired their victims. It was not the neighborhood that was chosen first. It was the victims. They were picked and then followed to their neighborhoods and homes. All three women had crossed the perpetrators’ radar somewhere else.
Ballard now had to find that crossing point.