Michael Connelly - The Wrong Side of Goodbye

“Easy now,” Trevino said as he backed up. “I thought we were talking and that we were going to figure this thing out.”

“You were talking,” Dockweiler said. “And now it’s time to shut the fuck up.”

“Okay, okay, no problem.”

Dockweiler then ordered them one at a time to unholster their weapons, put them on the floor, and kick them across the floor toward him. Dockweiler rose from the chair and brought his left arm around, the chair dangling by the handcuffs. He brought his hand down on the table and ordered Sisto to come over and remove the cuffs from his wrist. Sisto complied and then moved back into the confines of the kitchen counters.

With Dockweiler now standing, Bosch had a bigger target but he still didn’t have a safe shot. He didn’t know enough about the science of ballistics to guess how much a shot through glass would deviate from aim. He just knew that if he fired multiple shots, those that followed the first should be clean.

Additionally, there was the risk that Dockweiler might be able to squeeze off a shot if the first bullet through the glass did not hit its mark.

Bosch looked down to be sure of his footing on the concrete patio and took a step closer to the glass. Dockweiler was less than eight feet away with a plate of glass of unknown thickness between them. Bosch was resigned to hold off until he had to fire.

“Where’s Bosch?” Dockweiler asked.

“He’s out front going through your truck,” Valdez said.

“I want him in here.”

“I can get him.”

Valdez made a move toward the archway, which immediately drew Dockweiler’s aim.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dockweiler said. “Call him and tell him to get in here. Don’t tell him why, just tell him to get in here.”

Valdez slowly reached to his belt and pulled off his phone. Bosch realized that his own phone was about to ring and it would give away his position. He was about to reach into his pocket to silence it, when he realized that he wanted exactly that to happen.

Bosch shifted one step to his right so that he was on an angle that put Dockweiler directly between his aim and Valdez. Trevino and Sisto were in the clear and Bosch was counting on LAPD training still being ingrained in Valdez and his knowing when the shot would come.

He maintained the two-handed grip and waited for the call. His phone buzzed at first, giving him a split-second warning. Then came the chirping sound — a piercing ringtone chosen long ago by his daughter. Bosch had his aim on center mass — Dockweiler’s back — but his attention was focused on the back of his head.

He saw Dockweiler react. He had heard the phone. He raised his head a few centimeters and then turned it slightly left as he attempted to locate the origin of the sound. Bosch waited another split second for Valdez to react and then opened fire.

Bosch put six bullets through the window in less than three seconds. The sound reverberated off the glass and the roof overhang, creating a tremendous blowback of sound. Glass crashed and the blinds kicked up and splintered as bullets tore through them. Bosch was careful to keep his aim on a horizontal plane. He wanted no shots to angle down toward the floor, where he hoped Valdez was.

Dockweiler dropped forward onto the table and then rolled left and fell off onto the floor. Bosch raised his aim and watched while Trevino and Sisto, who were still standing, moved toward the man.

“Hold fire!” Trevino yelled. “He’s down, he’s down!”

The glass in the window frame was gone and the blinds hung in tatters. The smell of burnt gunpowder seared Bosch’s nose. He grabbed the blinds and tore them down so he could enter through the door-size window.

He first checked Valdez, who was sitting on the floor, his legs spread in front of him, his back to the lower cabinets. His phone was still in his hand but his call to Bosch had now gone to message. He was staring at Dockweiler on the floor five feet from him. His eyes came up to Bosch’s.

“Everybody okay?” Bosch asked.

Valdez nodded and Bosch noticed the bullet hole in the drawer two feet to the left of his head.

Bosch next looked down on Dockweiler. The big man was chest-down on the floor, his face turned to the left. He was not moving but his eyes were open and he was breathing, a labored whistling sound to each of his intakes. Bosch saw three bullet impacts. One was center left about halfway down his back, one was on his left buttock, and one was on his left elbow.

Bosch got down on the floor next to the suspect and looked across his torso at Trevino.

“Good shooting,” Trevino said.

Bosch nodded. He then leaned further down and looked up under the table. He saw the holster attached to the underside of the tabletop. Trevino followed his eye line and did the same.

“Son of a bitch,” he said.

“A good survivalist is ready for anything,” Bosch said. “I think we’re going to find weapons hidden all over the place in here.”

Bosch pulled a set of latex gloves out of his pocket. As he was putting them on, he leaned down close to Dockweiler’s face.

“Dockweiler, can you hear me?” he asked. “Can you talk?”

Dockweiler swallowed hard before trying to respond.

“Get me... hosp... hospital.”

Bosch nodded.

“Yeah, we’re going to get to that,” he said. “But first, we need to know where Bella is. You tell us that and we call in the RA.”

“Harry,” Valdez said.

Bosch leaned back on his haunches.

“You guys might want to step out,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”

“Harry,” Valdez said again. “We can’t do it this way.”

“You want Bella alive?” Bosch asked.

“You said before you doubted she was alive.”

“That was before I found hot food for her in the truck. She’s alive and he’s going to tell us where.”

Sisto stepped over to the table and grabbed the map that Dockweiler had drawn.

“We have this,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s a treasure map,” Bosch said. “If you think that’s where she is, you better run over there and be the hero.”

Sisto looked over at Valdez and then down at Trevino, not quite comprehending that Dockweiler had been playing them the whole time in order to get a hand free to grab his hidden gun.

Valdez raised his phone and clicked off the call to Bosch. He then hit a speed-dial button.

“We need a rescue ambulance to this address,” he said. “Suspect is down, multiple gunshot wounds. We’ll need the Sheriff’s Department to roll. Tell them we need an OIS team.”

Valdez looked at Bosch as he disconnected, the silent message being that they would do this by the book.

Bosch leaned down and tried one more time with Dockweiler.

“Where is she, Dockweiler?” he said. “Tell us now or you won’t make it to the hospital alive.”

“Harry,” Valdez said. “Get up and go outside.”

Bosch ignored him. He leaned further down to Dockweiler’s ear.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“Fuck... you,” Dockweiler said between gulps of air. “I tell you, nothing changes for me. Better you know... that you failed her.”

He managed to curl his lip back, in what Bosch assumed was a smile. Bosch started to reach a gloved hand toward the bullet wound on his back.

“Bosch!” Valdez yelled. “Outside now! That’s an order!”

The chief climbed to his feet and moved in to yank Bosch away from Dockweiler if necessary. Harry looked up at him and then stood. They stared at each other until finally Bosch spoke.

“I know she’s here,” he said.

Bosch knew he had little time to stay on the case before the Sheriff’s Department Officer-Involved Shooting team arrived on scene and sequestered him and the other San Fernando officers. While paramedics worked to stabilize Dockweiler and then lift him onto an ambulance gurney, Bosch took a high-powered flashlight out of one of the boxes in the garage and headed down the sloping backyard toward the Haskell Canyon Wash.