Sanderson tried to stare Ballard down but she didn’t blink.
“Now can I ask you something?” Ballard said.
“You can always ask,” Sanderson said. “I can’t promise I will answer.”
“Have you found Bonner’s car?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because I assume that if he drove, he parked in my neighborhood, and since he had nothing in his pockets but lockpicks, I assume there will be a phone, wallet, maybe notes and other things, in his car. Maybe the gun that killed my two victims. If I were you, I’d be looking for his car right now.”
“I can assure you that the investigation is continuing outside this room, Detective. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Good. What about the media? Are they onto this yet?”
“Detective, in this room, I am asking the questions. You have another repeat caller to your cell that I would like to ask you about. Garrett Single, the paramedic you told us coached you through the field tracheotomy. He has called you more times than Bosch. Why is that?”
“Well, I won’t really know until I can talk to him and find out, but my guess is that he wants to know if I’m all right.”
“He cares about you.”
“I think he does.”
Ballard braced for the romance question but Sanderson surprised her.
“Thank you, Detective,” he said. “And for now I think we have enough information from you. We are placing you on desk duty until we complete our investigation. In the meantime, I am ordering you not to contact or talk to the media about this incident. If you are contacted by a person in the media, you are to refer them to — ”
“Wait a minute,” Ballard said. “Who’s going to work the case? We’re not going to drop it while you and your people decide whether I did anything wrong.”
“My understanding is that the case has already been transferred to West Bureau Homicide. They will take it from here. By your own testimony, we are talking about a suicide. I’m sure they will close it quickly and you will be back to work.”
“I’m not talking about Bonner killing himself. I’m talking about the Javier Raffa case and the Albert Lee case.”
“Again, West Bureau will handle it.”
What was in play here only then hit Ballard. Christopher Bonner was ex-LAPD and that was an image problem. Not only was it a huge issue that an ex-LAPD officer was likely a hit man before and after he left the job, but whether he still had connections in the department was unknown. Thanks to Sanderson’s questions, Ballard already had one idea about the ties Bonner still had. Add to that the missing murder books, and this was a high-octane scandal waiting to explode in the media. It was best to keep everything compartmentalized. And tying together the murders of Albert Lee and Javier Raffa and solving them would only work against the department.
“I know what you’re going to do,” Ballard blurted out.
“Really?” Sanderson said. “What am I going to do, Detective?”
“You’re going to sand and sweep. Like you always do. This department is so fucked up. It’s like we don’t even care about victims anymore. It’s protect and serve the image instead of the citizens.”
“Are you finished, Detective?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m finished. Where’s my phone? Where’s my gun? I want them back.”
Sanderson turned to look at Hammel, who had returned and was standing with his back to the door.
“Her lieutenant has her phone,” the sidekick said.
Sanderson turned back to Ballard.
“Check with your lieutenant about the phone,” he said. “Your weapon is being processed. You will get that back when appropriate. In the meantime, you can ask your lieutenant about a temporary replacement from the armory. It may not be necessary, as for the moment you are assigned to desk duty.”
He waited a moment for Ballard to respond. She didn’t.
“Then I think we’re finished here,” Sanderson said.
Everyone stood up. The men from FID were closest to the door, and Ballard let them leave first. When she was last out of the interview room, she found Robinson-Reynolds waiting for her in an empty bullpen. Through the casement windows Ballard could see that it was full dark outside.
The lieutenant stood up from the desk he had been leaning on with folded arms.
“Renée, you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll take you back to your place.”