Michael Connelly - The Closers

The reporter and Bosch took seats at the table with Garcia while the photographer went out to check on her new assignment. McKenzie started by asking Garcia what stuck with him about the case for so long and what made him push it forward through the Open-Unsolved Unit. While Garcia gave a rambling response about the ones that haunt you, Bosch felt the waters of contempt rise in him. He knew what the reporter didn’t know, that Garcia had knowingly or unknowingly allowed the investigation to be shunted aside seventeen years earlier. The fact that it appeared Garcia did not know that his investigation had been tampered with somehow seemed like the lesser sin to Bosch. Still, if it didn’t show personal corruption or a giving way to pressure from the upper reaches of the department, at the very least it showed incompetence.

After a few more questions of Garcia the reporter turned her attention to Bosch and asked what was new in the case seventeen years later.

“The main thing is we have the DNA of the shooter,” he said. “Tissue and blood from the murder weapon was preserved by our Scientific Investigation Division. We are hoping that analysis of it will allow us either to match it to a suspect whose DNA is already in the Department of Justice data bank, or to use it in comparisons to eliminate or identify suspects. We are in the process of going back to everybody in the case. Anybody who looks like a suspect will have their DNA checked against what we’ve got. That is something Commander Garcia couldn’t do in ’eighty-eight. We’re hoping it will change things this time.”

Bosch further explained how the weapon extracted a DNA sample from the person who shot it. The reporter seemed very interested in the happenstance of this and took detailed notes.

Bosch was pleased. The gun and DNA story was what he wanted to get into the paper. He wanted Mackey to read the story and know that his DNA was in the pipeline. It was being analyzed and compared. He would know that a sample from him was already in the DOJ database. The hope was that this would make him panic. Maybe he would try to run, maybe he would make a mistake and make a call in which he discussed the crime. One mistake would be all it would take.

“How long before you get results from the DOJ?” McKenzie asked.

Bosch fidgeted. He was trying not to lie directly to the reporter.

“Uh, that’s hard to say,” he answered. “The DOJ prioritizes comparison requests and there is always a backup. We should have something any day now.”

Bosch was pleased with his response but then the reporter threw another grenade into his foxhole.

“What about race?” she said. “I read all the clips and it seemed like nothing was ever brought up one way or the other about this girl being biracial. Do you think that played at all into the motivation of this murder?”

Bosch flicked a look at Garcia and hoped he would answer first.

“The case was fully explored in that regard in nineteen eighty-eight,” Garcia said. “We found nothing to support the racial angle. That’s probably why it wasn’t in the clips.”

The reporter turned her focus to Bosch, wanting the present take on the question as well.

“We’ve thoroughly reviewed the murder book and there is nothing there that would support a racial motivation in the case,” Bosch said. “We obviously are in the process of reworking the case, front to back, and we’ll be looking for anything that might have played a part in the motivation behind the crime.”

He looked at her and braced himself for her not accepting his answer and pressing it further. He thought about floating the racial angle into the story. It might improve the chances of some kind of response from Mackey. But it might also tip Mackey to how close they were to him. He decided to leave his answer as is.

Instead of pursuing the question further, the reporter flipped her notebook closed.

“I think I have what I need for right now,” she said. “I am going to go talk to Mrs. Verloren and then I have to hurry back and write this up to get it in tomorrow. Is there a number I can reach you at, Detective Bosch? Quickly, if I need to.”

Bosch knew she had him. He reluctantly gave her his cell number, knowing it meant that in the future she would have a direct line to him and would use it in regard to any case or story. It was the last payment on the deal they had made.

Everyone got up from the table and Bosch noticed that Emmy Ward had quietly come back into the office and had been sitting by the door during the interview. He and Garcia thanked them both for coming in and said good-bye. Bosch remained in the office with Garcia.

“I think that went well,” Garcia said after the door had closed.

“I hope so,” Bosch said. “It cost me a cell phone number. I’ve had that number for three years. Now I’ll have to change it and notify everybody about the new number. A big pain in the ass is what it’s going to be.”

Garcia ignored the complaint.

“How sure are you that this guy Mackey will even see the story?”

“We’re not. In fact, we believe he’s dyslexic. He might not read at all.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped.

“Then what are we doing?”

“Well, we have a plan for making sure he’s aware of the story. Don’t worry about that. We’ve got it covered. There’s also another name that’s come up since yesterday. An associate of Mackey then and now. His name is William Burkhart. Back when you were on the case he was known as Billy Blitzkrieg. That ring a bell?”

Garcia put on his best deep thinking look, like the one he had used for the camera, and moved around behind his desk. He then shook his head.

“Don’t think it came up,” he said.

“Yeah, you probably would have remembered.”

Garcia remained standing but leaned over the desk to look at his schedule.

“Let’s see. What have I got next?”

“You’ve got me, Commander,” Bosch said.

Garcia looked at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I need a few more minutes to clear up some of this stuff that’s come up.”

“What stuff? You mean this new guy, Blitzkrieg?”

“Yes, and the stuff the reporter asked about and we lied about. The racial angle.”

Bosch watched Garcia’s face set sternly into stone.

“I didn’t lie to her and I didn’t lie to you yesterday. We didn’t find it. We didn’t see a racial angle to this.”

“We?”

“My partner and I.”

“Are you sure about that?”

The phone on his desk buzzed. Garcia grabbed it up angrily and said, “No calls, no intrusions,” into it before dropping it back into its cradle.

“Detective, I want to remind you whom you are talking to,” Garcia said evenly. “Now what the fuck do you mean, ‘Are you sure?’ What are you saying?”

“With all due respect to the rank, sir, the case was pushed away from the racial angle in ’eighty-eight. I believe you when you say you didn’t see it. Otherwise, I can’t see you calling Pratt down at Open-Unsolved and reminding him there was DNA in the case. But if you didn’t know what was happening, then your partner certainly did. Did he ever talk about the pressure brought to bear on him from the command side on this case?”

“Ron Green was the finest detective I ever knew or worked with. I’m not going to let you besmirch his reputation.”

They stood just a few feet apart, the desk between them, their eyes locked in battle.

“I’m not interested in reputations. I’m interested in the truth. You said yesterday he ate his own gun a few years after this case. Why? Was there a note?”

“The burden, Detective. He couldn’t carry it anymore. He was haunted by the ones who got away.”

“What about the ones he let get away?”