Michael Connelly (130 page)

“Do they work with pimps, what?”

“Yeah, some got management but it’s not a requirement. It’s not like the street, where a girl needs her pimp to protect her
from the bad johns and other whores. In outcall, all you need is an answering service. Chick puts her ad and her picture in
the X press and the calls come in. Most have rules. They won’t go to anybody’s house, strictly hotel work. They can control
the class of clientele they keep by the expense of the hotel. Good way to keep the riff-raff out.”

Bosch thought about Rebecca Kaminski and how she had gone to the Hyatt on Sunset. A nice place, but the riff-raff got in.

Apparently thinking the same thing, Mora said, “It doesn’t always work, though.”

“Obviously.”

“So, I’ll see what I can come up with, okay? But off the top of my head, I don’t think there will be many. If there was a
bunch of women doing the sudden and permanent disappearing act like Gallery did, I think I would’ve gotten wind of it.”

“You got my beeper number?”

Mora wrote it down and Bosch headed out of the office.

• • •

He was heading across the lobby past the front desk when the pager on his belt sounded. He checked the number and saw it was
a 485 exchange. He assumed Mora had forgotten to tell him something. He took the stairs back up to the second floor and ducked
back into the Ad-Vice squad room.

Mora was there, holding the photo of Gallery and staring at it in a contemplative manner. He looked up then and saw Bosch.

“Did you just beep me?”

“Me? No.”

“Oh, I just thought you were trying to catch me before I left. I’m gonna use one of the phones.”

“You’re welcome to ’em, Harry.”

Bosch walked to an empty desk and dialed the number from the pager. He saw Mora slide the photo into the file. He put the
file into a briefcase that was on the floor next to his chair.

A male voice answered the call after two rings.

“Chief Irvin Irving’s office, this is Lieutenant Felder, how can I help you?”

As with all three of the department’s assistant chiefs, Irving had his own private conference room at Parker Center. It was
furnished with a large, round, Formica-topped table and six chairs, a potted plant and a counter that ran along the rear wall.
There were no windows. The room could be entered through a door from Irving’s adjutant’s office or from the sixth floor’s
main hallway. Bosch was the last one to arrive at the summit meeting called by Irving, taking the last chair. In the others
sat the assistant chief, followed counterclockwise by Edgar and three men from Robbery-Homicide Division. Two of them Bosch
knew, detectives Frankie Sheehan and Mike Opelt. They had also been attached to the Dollmaker task force four years earlier.

The third man from RHD Bosch knew by name and reputation only. Lieutenant Hans Rollenberger. He had been promoted to RHD sometime
after Bosch had been demoted out of it. But friends like Sheehan kept Bosch informed. They told him Rollenberger was another
cookie-cutter bureaucrat who avoided controversial and career-threatening decisions the way people avoid panhandlers on the
sidewalk, pretending not to see or hear them. He was a climber and, therefore, he couldn’t be trusted. In RHD, the troops
already referred to him as “Hans Off,” because that was the kind of commander he was. Morale in RHD, the unit every detective
in the police department aspired to, was probably the lowest since the day the Rodney King video hit the TV.

“Sit down, Detective Bosch,” Irving said cordially. “I think you know everybody.”

Before Bosch could answer, Rollenberger sprang from his chair and offered his hand.

“Lieutenant Hans Rollenberger.”

Bosch shook it, then they both sat down. Bosch noticed a large stack of files at the center of the table and immediately recognized
them as the Doll-maker task force case files. The murder books Bosch had were his own personal files. What was piled on the
table was the entire main file, probably pulled out of the archives warehouse.

“We’re sitting down to see what we can do about this problem that’s come up with the Dollmaker case,” Irving said. “I have
— as Detective Edgar has probably told you, I am swinging this case over to RHD. I am prepared to have Lieutenant Rollenberger
put as many people on it as needed. I have also arranged for the loan of Detective Edgar to the case and you, as soon as you
are free from the trial. I want results quickly. This is already turning into a public relations nightmare with what I understand
was revealed during testimony today in your trial.”

“Yeah, well, sorry about that. I was under oath.”

“I understand that. The problem was you were testifying to things only you knew about. I had my adjutant sit in and he informed
us of your, uh, theory on what has happened with this new case. Last night, I made the decision to have RHD handle the matter.
After hearing the sense of your testimony today, I want to task-force this and get it going.

“Now, I want you to bring us up to speed on exactly what is going on, what you think, what you know. Then, we will plan from
there.”

They all looked at Bosch for a moment and he was unsure where to begin. Sheehan stepped in with a question. It was a signal
that he believed Irving was playing on the level on this one, that Bosch could feel safe.

“Edgar says it’s a copycat. That there is no problem with Church?”

“That’s right,” Bosch answered. “Church was the man. But he was good for nine of the victims, not eleven. He spawned a follower
halfway through his run and we didn’t see it.”

“Tell it,” Irving said.

He did. It took Bosch forty-five minutes to tell it. Sheehan and Opelt asked several questions as he went. The only thing
or person he did not mention was Mora.

At the end, Irving said, “When you ran this follower theory by Locke, did he say it’s possible?”

“Yes. With him I think he thinks anything is possible. But he was useful. He made it pretty clear for me. I want to keep him
informed. He’s good to bounce stuff off of.”

“I understand there’s a leak. Could it be Locke?”

Shaking his head, Bosch said, “I didn’t go to him until last night and Chandler has known things from the start. She knew
I was out at the scene the first day. Today she seemed to know the direction we are going, that there is a follower. She’s
got a good source keeping her informed. And Bremmer over at the
Times,
who knows. He’s got a lot of sources.”

“Okay,” Irving said. “Well, aside from Dr. Locke being the exception, nothing in this room leaves this room. No one talks
to anyone. You two” — he looked at Bosch and Edgar — “don’t even tell your supervisors at Hollywood what you’re doing.”

Without naming Pounds, Irving was postulating his suspicion that Pounds could be a leak. Edgar and Bosch nodded in agreement.

“Now” — Irving looked at Bosch — “where do we go from here?”

Without hesitation, Bosch said, “We have to retrace the investigation. Like I told you, Locke said it was someone who had
intimate access to the case. Who knew every detail and then copied them. It was a perfect cover. For a while, at least.”

“You’re talking about a cop,” Rollenberger said, his first words since the briefing began.

“Maybe. But there are other possibilities. The suspect pool is actually pretty large. You got the cops, people who found the
bodies, the coroner’s staff, passersby at the crime scenes, reporters, lot of people.”

“Shit,” Opelt said. “We’re going to need more people.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Irving said. “I’ll get more. How do we narrow it down?”

Bosch said, “When we look at the victims we learn things about the killer. The victims and the survivor generally fall into
the same archetype. Blonde, well built, worked in porno and did outcall work on the side. Locke thinks that is how the follower
picked his victims. He saw them in videos, then found the means of contacting them in the outcall ads in the local adult newspapers.”

“It’s like he went shopping for victims,” Sheehan said.

“Yeah.”

“What else?” Irving said.

“Not a lot. Locke said the follower is very smart, much more so than Church was. But that he could be disassembling, as he
calls it. Coming apart. That’s why he sent the note. Nobody would’ve ever known but then he sent the note. He’s moved into
a phase where he wants the attention that the Doll-maker had. He got jealous that this trial threw attention on Church.”

“What about other victims?” Sheehan asked. “Ones we don’t know about yet? It’s been four years.”

“Yeah, I’m working on that. Locke says there’s gotta be others.”

“Shit,” Opelt said. “We need more people.”

Everyone was quiet while they thought about this.

“What about the FBI, shouldn’t we contact their behavioral science people?” Rollenberger asked.

Everyone looked at Hans Off as if he were the kid who came to the sand-lot football game wearing white pants.

“Fuck them,” Sheehan said.

“We seem to have a handle on this — initially, at least,” Irving said.

“What else do we know about the follower?” Rollenberger said, hoping to immediately deflect attention from his miscue. “Do
we have any physical evidence that can give us any insight into him?”

“Well, we need to track down the survivor,” Bosch said. “She gave a composite drawing that everyone dismissed after I nailed
Church. But now we know her drawing was probably of the follower. We need to find her and see if there is anything else that
she has, that she can still remember, that will help.”

As he said this Sheehan dug through the stack of files on the table and found the composite. It was very generic and didn’t
look like anyone Bosch recognized, least of all Mora.

“We have to assume he wore disguises, same as Church, so the composite might not help. But she might remember something else,
something about the suspect’s manners that might let us know if it was a cop.

“Also, I’m having Amado at the coroner’s office compare the rape kits between the two victims we now attribute to the follower.
There’s a good chance the follower may have made a mistake here.”

“Explain,” Irving said.

“The follower did everything the Dollmaker did, right?”

“Right,” Rollenberger said.

“Wrong. He only did what was known at the time about the Dollmaker. What we knew. What we didn’t know was that Church had
been smart. He had shaved his body so he would not leave trace hair evidence behind. We didn’t know that until after he was
dead, so neither did the follower. And by then he had already done two of the victims.”

“So there is a chance those two rape kits hold physical evidence to our guy,” Irving said.

“Right. I’m having Amado cross-check between the two kits. He should know something by Monday.”

“That’s very good, Detective Bosch.”

Irving looked at Bosch and their eyes met. It was as if the assistant chief was sending him a message and taking one at the
same time.

“We’ll see,” Bosch said.

“Other than that, that’s all we’ve got, right?” Rollenberger said.

“Right.”

“No.”

It was Edgar, who up until now had been silent. Everyone looked at him.

“In the concrete we found — actually, Harry found it — a cigarette pack. It went in when the concrete was wet. So there’s
a good chance they were the follower’s. Marlboro regulars. Soft pack.”

“They also could have been the vic’s, right?” Rollenberger asked.

“No,” Bosch said. “I talked to her manager last night. He said she didn’t smoke. The smokes were in all likelihood the follower’s.”

Sheehan smiled at Bosch and Bosch smiled back. Sheehan held his hands together as if waiting for handcuffs.

“Here I am boys,” he said. “That’s my brand.”

“Mine, too,” Bosch said. “But I’ve got you beat. I’m left-handed, too. I better get an alibi working.”

The men at the table smiled. Bosch dropped his smile when he suddenly thought of something but knew he could not say anything
yet. He looked at the files stacked at the center of the table.

“Shit, every cop smokes Marlboros or Camels,” Opelt said.

“It’s a dirty habit,” Irving said.

“I agree,” said Rollenberger, a little too quickly.

It brought silence back to the table.

“Who’s your suspect?”

It was Irving who asked it. He was looking at Bosch again with those eyes Harry couldn’t decipher. The question shocked Bosch.
Irving knew. Somehow he knew. Harry didn’t answer.

“Detective, it is clear you’ve had a handle on what’s going on for a day. You’ve also been on this case from the start. I
think you’ve got someone in mind. Tell us. We need to start somewhere.”

Bosch hesitated again but finally said, “I’m not sure … and I don’t want…”

“To ruin someone’s career if you’re wrong? To set the dogs on a possibly innocent man? That’s understood. But we can’t have
you pursuing this on your own. Haven’t you learned anything from this trial? I believe ‘cowboying’ was the term Money Chandler
used to describe it.”