Michael Connelly - The Wrong Side of Goodbye

“Did he resent that Lourdes and Sisto weren’t cut first?”

“Well, I don’t know if you know this but Sisto is the son of a longtime city council member. So he wasn’t going anywhere and Dockweiler knew that. So, yes, he mostly focused his upset on Bella, said she was staying and he was going because she was a twofer. Then he asked me if her being a lesbian made her a three-fer.”

The chief’s phone rang and he immediately took it.

“Go,” he said.

He listened and then repeated an address on Stonington Drive, Saugus, for Bosch to memorize. Bosch recognized the address and immediately felt a charge as one more confirmation on Dockweiler clicked.

“Interesting,” Valdez said into the phone. “Shoot me a map link on a text for that second place. And you better start the callouts on SRT. Depending on what we get up here, I’ll make the call on that. Send me another text when you’ve got everybody ready to roll.”

Bosch knew that the Special Response Team was the SFPD’s version of SWAT. The officers on the team came from all over the Department and all had critical incident and high-level weapons training.

Valdez disconnected.

“Did you plot that address on GPS?” he asked.

“No,” Bosch said. “I already know how to get there. It’s up in Haskell Canyon, and Bella and I were up in that neighborhood Saturday tracing the Screen Cutter’s knife.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. Dockweiler’s gotta be the guy. The original owner of the knife reported it stolen out of his car in his driveway. He told us a Sheriff’s deputy was living across the street from him at the time. Dockweiler probably knew that deputy, had been in that part of the neighborhood. Maybe he saw the original owner with the knife. I don’t know how exactly but I do know it’s too close to be a coincidence. There are no coincidences. Dockweiler stole the knife.”

Valdez nodded. He was becoming a believer.

“It’s coming together, Harry,” he said.

“Let’s just hope it’s not too late for Bella,” Bosch said.

Bosch directed Valdez into Saugus and into a neighborhood on the other side of the Haskell Canyon Wash from where the Screen Cutter’s knife had been stolen from its original owner.

Along the way the police chief filled Bosch in on the second part of the phone call he had received from the com center. He explained that the city had a policy that required all employees to seek approval if they worked second jobs. This allowed the city to guard against employees getting involved in conflicts of interest or second jobs that might be embarrassing. The policy was enacted a decade earlier when the Los Angeles Times reported that an assistant city manager was also producing and performing in porno videos under the name Torrid Tori.

“So two years ago Dockweiler applied for and got clearance to work a part-time night security job at the Harris Movie Ranch over in Canyon Country,” Valdez said. “Gives us a secondary location. You ever been up there?”

“Never have,” Bosch said.

“Pretty cool place. I went up there a couple times with my brother-in-law who’s a screenwriter. It’s huge, like a couple hundred acres where they film all kinds of things. Westerns, detective shit, even sci-fi. There’s all kinds of structures in the woods that they use for shoot-outs and that kind of stuff. If Dockweiler has access, then I hate to say it but we could be searching up there for Bella till dawn. So I put SRT on standby. We’ll know if we need them after we get to Dockweiler’s house and see what’s there.”

Bosch nodded. It was a good plan.

“How do you want to do his house?” he asked. “Go straight at it or skee it first?”

“Or do what first?” Valdez asked.

“Skee it. You don’t remember that from LAPD? Short for schematic . You know, check the place out on the sly, then draw up a plan. As opposed to just knocking on the door.”

“Okay, then, I think we should skee it. You?”

“Agreed.”

Valdez called Trevino and filled him in on everything, including the movie ranch angle that might come into play later. He gave them the confirmed address of Dockweiler’s house and they worked out a plan in which the cars would enter the block from opposite ends, park, and then the four men would proceed on foot, checking out the house and meeting in the backyard if it was accessible.

“Remember,” Valdez said. “This guy was a cop. We need to count on him having weapons.”

By the time the call was finished they were in the neighborhood and it was time to split off. Valdez killed the lights. He entered the block from the north side and parked three houses short of the Dockweiler address. Before getting out of the car both Bosch and Valdez drew their weapons and pulled back the slides to make sure there was a round in the chamber. They then reholstered.

Bosch assumed that he had more tactical experience than the police chief so he took the lead without talking about it first. Valdez fell in behind as they moved up the street. It was not an urban environment. There were no cars parked on the street and very few in driveways. It afforded little cover and Bosch easily zeroed in on Sisto and Trevino working their way down the opposite end of the block.

Bosch cut in toward the front of the house that was next door to Dockweiler’s. He held by the corner of the garage. Valdez came up next to him and they studied Dockweiler’s home. It was a ranch-style house of modest size. There were no fences preventing access to the rear yard. That most likely meant no dogs. The light over the front door was on but there appeared to be no lights on inside the house.

Bosch nodded to Valdez and they moved across the side yard and then toward the rear of Dockweiler’s house. Bosch tried to get a view inside through every window they passed but curtains were pulled or it was too dark in the house to see inside.

When Bosch and Valdez got to the backyard Trevino and Sisto were already there, standing by an outdoor barbecue. There was also a light on over the back door but the wattage was low and it didn’t reach very far.

The four men convened by the barbecue. Bosch looked around. The backyard sloped down into the wash, where it was pitch-black. He checked the back of the house once more and noticed a build-out from the right side, a small room with mostly glass walls. It looked like a mismatched addition to the house and he wondered if Dockweiler, a code enforcement officer, had added on the room without permit.

“Looks like nobody’s home,” Sisto said.

“We need to be sure,” Bosch said. “How about you two stay on the back door and the chief and I go knock on the door up front?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Valdez said before either of the other two could object to their backup duties.

Bosch headed back down the side of the house and Valdez followed, after instructing the backyard team to stay alert. They were almost to the front corner when headlights swept across the lawn as a vehicle turned into the driveway.

Bosch ducked in against the house and Valdez posted up behind him. There was a rumbling sound and Bosch knew it was the sound of the garage opening. But it wasn’t followed by the sound of the vehicle pulling in. Instead, Bosch heard the engine die, followed by the vehicle’s door opening and closing. A few seconds later, there was another heavy metal banging sound that Bosch could not identify.

Bosch looked back at Valdez and nodded. He then edged up to the corner and looked into the front yard. The vehicle was a white pickup truck with a camper shell. Bosch could see a man standing at the tailgate he had just dropped. He was leaning into the back of the truck but Bosch could not see what he was doing. He saw no one else in or around the truck. He turned back to Valdez and whispered.