Michael Connelly - The Closers

“Muriel, you have to get out,” Rider said. “Go down the street. More police are on the way. Wave them down and tell them we’re inside already.”

They pushed her through the open front door and then closed it behind her.

“Don’t let him ruin her room!” they heard her plead from the other side. “It’s all I have left!”

Bosch and Rider made their way to the back hallway and went up the stairway as quietly as they could. They took positions on either side of the door to Rebecca’s bedroom.

Bosch looked across at Rider. They both knew there was little time. When backup units arrived the situation would change. It was a classic suicide-by-police setup. This was the one chance they might have of getting to Stoddard before he or a SWAT cop put a bullet into his brain.

Rider pointed to the doorknob and Bosch reached out and tried to silently turn it. He shook his head. The door was locked.

They used hand signals to outline a plan, nodded when they were ready, and then Bosch stepped back into the hallway and prepared to drive his heel into the door next to the knob. He knew he had to do it with one kick. They would lose the advantage of surprise after that.

“Who’s out there?”

It was Stoddard, his voice coming through the door. Bosch looked at Rider. So much for the element of surprise. He pointed to her and gave her the silent sign. He would do the talking.

“Mr. Stoddard, it’s Detective Bosch. How are you doing?”

“Not too good.”

“Yeah, things have sort of gotten out of hand, haven’t they?”

Stoddard didn’t answer.

“Tell you what,” Bosch said. “You really need to think about putting the gun down and coming out. You’re lucky I’m here. I just came to check on Mrs. Verloren. But my partner and the SWAT team are going to be here soon. You don’t want to tangle with SWAT. Now is the time to come out.”

“I just want you to know I loved her, that’s all.”

Bosch hesitated before speaking. He glanced over at Rider and then back at the door. He could go two ways with Stoddard. He could work on getting a confession right now or he could work on talking him out of the house and saving his life. Both things were possible but maybe not likely.

“So what happened?” he asked.

There was a long silence before Stoddard spoke.

“What happened was she wanted to keep the baby and she didn’t understand how that would ruin everything. We had to get rid of it, and then afterward she changed her mind.”

“About the baby?”

“About me. About all of it.”

Bosch didn’t respond. After a few moments Stoddard spoke again.

“I loved her.”

“But you killed her.”

“I made mistakes.”

“Like that night?”

“I don’t want to talk about that night. I want to remember all the times before that night.”

“I guess I don’t blame you.”

Bosch looked at Rider and held up three fingers. They were going to go on a three count. Rider nodded. She was ready.

Bosch dropped one finger.

“You know what I don’t get, Mr. Stoddard?”

He dropped the second finger.

“What?” Stoddard asked.

Bosch dropped the third finger, then raised his right leg and drove it into the door. It was a hollow-interior door. It gave way easily and swung open with a crash. Bosch’s momentum took him into the bedroom right behind it. He raised his gun and turned toward the bed.

Stoddard wasn’t there.

Bosch continued his turn, catching a glimpse of Stoddard in the mirror. He was standing in the corner to the other side of the door. He was raising the muzzle of a long-barreled revolver to his mouth.

Bosch heard Rider shout and her body came through the door at full speed as she threw herself into Stoddard.

The crack of a gunshot shook the room as Rider and Stoddard went down to the floor. The revolver fell from Stoddard’s hand and clattered onto the floor. Bosch moved quickly to them and dropped his weight onto Stoddard as Rider rolled off him.

“Kiz, you hit?”

There was no answer. Bosch tried to look at her while keeping Stoddard under control. Rider was holding one hand to the left side of her head.

“Kiz?”

“I’m not hit!” she yelled. “I think I’m just deaf in one ear.”

Stoddard tried to get up, even with Bosch’s weight on top of him.

“Please!” he said.

Bosch used his forearm to knock one of Stoddard’s arms out from supporting him. Stoddard’s chest hit the floor and Bosch quickly pulled the arm back and cuffed it. After a minor struggle he pulled the other arm back and completed the cuffing. He then leaned down and spoke to Stoddard.

“Please what?”

“Please let me die.”

Bosch got up and pulled Stoddard to his feet.

“That would be too easy for you, Stoddard. That would be like letting you get away all over again.”

Bosch looked over at Rider, who had gotten to her feet. He could see that some of her hair had been singed by the gun’s discharge. It had been that close.

“You going to be okay?”

“As soon as the ringing stops.”

Bosch looked up and saw the bullet hole in the ceiling. He could hear sirens coming. He grabbed Stoddard by the elbow and pulled him toward the bedroom’s door.

“I’m going to go down and put this guy in a car. We’ll book him at Devonshire, hold him there until the arraignment.”

Rider nodded but Bosch could tell she was still dealing with what had just happened. The ringing in her ear was a reminder of how close it had been.

Bosch held Stoddard by the arm as he walked him down the steps. When they got to the living room, Stoddard spoke with a desperation in his voice.

“You could do it now.”

“Do what?”

“Shoot me. Say I ran. Take one of the cuffs off and say I got loose. You want to kill me, don’t you?”

Bosch stopped and looked at him.

“Yes, I’d want to kill you. But that would be too good for you. You are going to have to pay for what you did to that girl and her family. And just putting you down right here wouldn’t even cover the interest on seventeen years.”

Bosch roughly pushed him toward the door. They stepped out onto the front lawn just as a patrol car pulled to a stop and cut its siren. Bosch could tell by the streamlined light bar across the roof that it was one of the new cars he had heard about, with state-of-the-art equipment. The department could afford only a few of them in each budget cycle.

The car gave Bosch an idea. He raised his hand and circled his finger in the air, giving the all-clear sign.

As he walked Stoddard toward the car he saw Muriel Verloren walking down the middle of the street to her house. She was staring at Stoddard. Her mouth was wide open as if in a silent scream of horror. She started running toward them.

BOSCH RODE in the backseat of the patrol car with Stoddard on the way to Devonshire Division. Rider was left behind at the Verloren house to calm Muriel and to be checked out herself by paramedics. When they gave her the okay she would drive Bosch’s car to the station.

The trip to the division would only take ten minutes. Bosch knew he had to quickly take a shot at getting Stoddard talking. The first thing he did was read the school principal his rights. Stoddard had made some admissions while holed up in Rebecca Verloren’s bedroom, but whether they could be used in court was open to question because they had not been recorded and he had not been forewarned about his rights, which included remaining silent.

After reading the Miranda warning off a business card he had borrowed earlier from Rider, Bosch simply asked, “Now, do you want to talk to me?”

Stoddard was leaning forward because his hands were still cuffed behind his back. His chin was almost down to his chest.