Hoyle bowed his head in shame and closed his eyes.
“If you lie to me one time, I will no longer help you,” Ballard said.
“There were six,” Hoyle said. “No, seven. Javier Raffa was number seven.”
“Including James?”
“Yes. Yes.”
Ballard looked through the windshield at Bosch. He had been watching them, seeing but not hearing Hoyle talk. They locked eyes and Ballard nodded. She had gotten what she needed. Hoyle was on video.
“Go back inside now, Doctor,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone about this. If you do, I’ll know and I’ll bury you.”
“Okay,” Hoyle said. “But what do I do now?”
“You just wait. You’ll hear from a detective named Bettany. Ross Bettany. He’ll tell you what to do.”
“Okay.”
“You can get out now.”
34
Bosch had brought a thermos of coffee with him. When Ballard had picked him up, he came out with the thermos and two to-go cups. Ballard had told him they weren’t going to a stakeout, but he’d said, you never know.
Bosch had always been a sort of homicide guru to Ballard. Ever since the night she caught him going through files in the D-bureau — long after he’d retired. She wasn’t sure whether it was wisdom or experience, or if experience brought the wisdom, but she knew he was never just backup. He was her go-to guy and she trusted him.
They didn’t get to Jason Abbott’s house until after one. The house was dark, and there was no answer to repeated knocks on his door. They debated whether he knew what was closing in around him and had fled. But that didn’t fit with the known facts. He may have learned that Bonner was dead, but even that was a stretch, as the man who had killed himself in Ballard’s apartment had no ID on his person. Ballard knew it was Bonner because she recognized him. But his identity would not have been released by the coroner’s office until it had been confirmed through fingerprints and other means.
Ballard believed that, at best, Abbott would know only that Bonner was missing in action. The hit man had not responded to the text or reported back to him in any other way. Abbott may have cruised Ballard’s neighborhood and seen the police activity, but again, it didn’t seem likely that he had enough information to cause him to flee. Ballard was the only one who had the whole picture, and she had shared it with no one but Bosch.
They decided to stay awhile and watch for Abbott’s return. And that was where the coffee in the thermos came in.
“How did you know we would end up out here — maybe all night?” Ballard asked.
“I didn’t,” Bosch said. “I just came prepared.”
“You’re like that guy in the Wambaugh books. The Original. No, the Oracle. They called him the Oracle ’cause he’s already seen everything twice.”
“I like the Original.”
“Harry Bosch, the Original. Nice.”
He reached to the back for the thermos.
“You ever see yourself stopping?” Ballard asked.
“I guess when I stop, it all stops, you know?” he said.
He put the two cups on the dashboard and got ready to pour.
“You want some?”
“Sure, but you can sleep if you want. These are my normal hours, so I’ll be fine.”
“The dark hours belong to you.”
“You got it.”
He handed her a cup of black coffee.
“It’s hot,” he warned.
“Thanks,” Ballard said, accepting it. “But really. I got good sleep until Bonner woke me up. One cup and I’ll be good to go all night. You can sleep.”
“We’ll see. I’ll keep you company for at least a while. What about the car? Aren’t the narcs going to need it back in the morning?”
“If you’d asked me that a year ago, the answer would’ve been … well, I wouldn’t have gotten the car in the first place. But now, post George Floyd and knee-deep in Covid and defunding the department and everything else? Nobody’s doing shit. I didn’t even ask for this car. I just took it because it’s not going to be missed.”
“I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“A lot of people are mailing it in. Crime is up but arrests are down. And a lot of people are quitting. I gotta be honest, I’m even thinking of quitting, Harry. Think you could use a partner?”
She said it with a laugh, but in many ways she was serious.
“Anytime — as long as you don’t need a regular paycheck. You’re pretty short of a pension, aren’t you?”