Michael Connelly: The Brass Verdict

“You’ve known all these years,” I finally said. “Why didn’t you ever make contact? I have another half brother and three half sisters. They’re yours, too, you know.”

Bosch didn’t say anything at first, then he gave an answer I guessed he had been telling himself for a few decades.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to rock anybody’s boat. Most of the time people don’t like surprises. Not like this.”

For a moment I wondered what my life would’ve been like if I had known about Bosch. Maybe I would’ve been a cop instead of a lawyer. Who knows?

“I’m quitting, you know.”

I wasn’t sure why I had said it.

“Quitting what?”

“My job. The law. You could say the brass verdict was my last verdict.”

“I quit once. It didn’t take. I came back.”

“We’ll see.”

Bosch glanced at me and then put his eyes back out on the city. It was a beautiful day with low-flying clouds and a cold-air front that had compressed the smog layer to a thin amber band on the horizon. The sun had just crested the mountains to the east and was throwing light out on the Pacific. We could see all the way out to Catalina.

“I came to the hospital that time you got shot,” he said. “I wasn’t sure why. I saw it on the news and they said it was a gut shot and I knew those could go either way. I thought maybe if they needed blood or something, I could… I figured we matched, you know? Anyway, there were all these reporters and cameras. I ended up leaving.”

I smiled and then I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, a cop, volunteering to give blood to a defense attorney. I don’t think they would’ve let you back into the clubhouse if they knew about that.”

Now Bosch smiled and nodded.

“I guess I didn’t think about that.”

And just like that, both our smiles disappeared and the awkwardness of being strangers returned. Eventually Bosch checked his watch.

“The warrant teams are meeting in twenty minutes. I gotta roll.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you around, Counselor.”

“I’ll see you around, Detective.”

He went down the steps and I stayed where I was. I heard his car start up, then pull away and go down the hill.

I stayed out on the deck after that and looked out at the city as the light moved across it. Many different thoughts filtered through my head and flew off into the sky like the clouds up there, remotely beautiful and untouchable. Distant. I was left feeling that I would never see Bosch again. That he would have his side of the mountain and I would have mine and that’s all there would be.

After a while I heard the door open and steps on the deck. I felt my daughter’s presence by my side and I put my hand on her shoulder.

“What are you doing, Dad?”

“Just looking.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“What did that policeman want?”

“Just to talk. He’s a friend of mine.”

We were both silent for a moment before she moved on.

“I wish Mom had stayed with us last night,” she said.

I looked down at her and squeezed the back of her neck.

“One thing at a time, Hay,” I said. “We got her to have pancakes with us last night, didn’t we?”

She thought about it and gave me the nod. She agreed. Pancakes were a start.

“I’m going to be late if we don’t go,” she said. “One more time and I’ll get a conduct slip.”

I nodded.

“Too bad. The sun’s just about to hit the ocean.”

“Come on, Dad. That happens every day.”

I nodded.

“Somewhere, at least.”

I went in for the keys, then locked up and we went down the steps to the garage. By the time I backed the Lincoln out and had it pointed down the hill, I could see the sun was spinning gold on the Pacific.

In no particular order, the author wishes to thank the following individuals for contributions to the research and writing of this story that ranged from small to incredibly selfless and gigantic:

Daniel Daly, Roger Mills, Dennis Wojciechowski, Asya Muchnick, Bill Massey, S. John Drexel, Dennis McMillan, Pamela Marshall, Linda Connelly, Jane Davis, Shannon Byrne, Michael Pietsch, John Wilkinson, David Ogden, John Houghton, Michael Krikorian, Michael Roche, Greg Stout, Judith Champagne, Rick Jackson, David Lambkin, Tim Marcia, Juan Rodriguez, and Philip Spitzer.

This is a work of fiction. Any errors in the law, evidence and courtroom tactics are wholly those of the author.

Michael Connellyis the author of the bestselling Harry Bosch series of novels as well as the #1 New York Times bestseller The Lincoln Lawyer, featuring Mickey Haller. He is a former newspaper reporter who has won numerous awards for his journalism and his novels. He spends his time in California and Florida.