Read Online The Night Fire: A Ballard and Bosch thriller (Harry Bosch 22) by Michael Connelly - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Connelly
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retired and then it was too late to get into Property. He had no badge.”
“But if you were going to take a book so you could work on it, wouldn’t you plan it so you could get to Property before you walked out the door?”
Bosch nodded.
“I guess so,” he said.
“Okay, so you go to Margaret and see about that,” Ballard said. “I made up a list of names from the book. People I want to talk to. I’m going to start running them down as soon as we’re finished here.”
“Can I see the list?”
“’Course.”
For the fourth time Ballard went into the backpack and this time pulled out her own notebook. She opened it and turned it around on the table so Bosch could read the list.
Maxwell Talis
Donald Hilton
Sandra Hilton
Thompson widow
Vincent Pilkey, dealer
Dennard Dorsey, dealer/snitch—protected
Brendan Sloan, narcotics
Elvin Kidd
Nathan Brazil, roommate
Bosch nodded as he looked at the names. Ballard took this to mean he was in agreement.
“Hopefully some of them are still alive. Sloan is still in the department, right?”
“Runs West Bureau. My boss, technically.”
“Then all you have to do is get around his adjutant.”
“That won’t be a problem. Are you going to eat the rest of that donut?”
“No. It’s all yours.”
Ballard grabbed the donut and took a bite. Bosch lifted his cane from the back of the other chair.
“I gotta get back to the courthouse,” he said. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” Ballard said, her mouth full. “Did you see this?”
She put the rest of the donut back on the plate, then opened the binder, unsnapped the rings, and handed Bosch the document she had moved to the front of the murder book.
“It’s redacted,” she said. “Who would black out lines in the statement from the parents?”
“I saw that too,” Bosch said. “It’s weird.”
“The whole book is confidential, why black anything out?”
“I know. I don’t get it.”
“And we don’t know who did it—whether it was Thompson or the original investigators. When you look at those two lines in context—the stepfather talking about adopting the boy—you have to wonder if they were protecting somebody. I’m going to try to run down Hilton’s birth certificate through Sacramento, but that will take forever because I don’t have his original name. That was probably redacted too.”
“I could try to run it down at Norwalk. Next time I go to see Maddie on a weekday.”
Norwalk was the site of Los Angeles County’s record archives. It was at the far south end of the county and with traffic could take an hour each way. Birth records were not accessible by computer to the public or law enforcement. Proper ID had to be shown to pull a birth certificate, especially one guarded by adoption rules.
“That’ll only work if Hilton was born in the county. But worth a try, I guess.”
“Well, one way or another we’ll figure it out. It’s a mystery for now.”
“What’s at the courthouse?”
“I want to see if I can get a subpoena. I want to get there before the judges all split.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. So, you’ll go see Margaret Thompson later and I’ll run down these names. The ones that are still alive.”
Bosch stood up, holding the docs and his laptop under his arm. He didn’t have a briefcase. He hooked his cane back on the chair so he could reach into his pocket with his free hand.
“So, did you sleep yet today or just go right into this?”
“Yes, Dad, I slept.”
“Don’t call me that. Only one person can call me that and she never does.”
He pulled out some cash and left a twenty on the table, tipping as though there had been four people after all.
“How is Maddie?” Ballard asked.
“A little freaked out at the moment,” Bosch said.
“Why, what happened?”
“She’s got one semester to go down at Chapman and then she graduates. Three weeks ago some creep broke into the house she shares near the school with three other girls. It was a
“But if you were going to take a book so you could work on it, wouldn’t you plan it so you could get to Property before you walked out the door?”
Bosch nodded.
“I guess so,” he said.
“Okay, so you go to Margaret and see about that,” Ballard said. “I made up a list of names from the book. People I want to talk to. I’m going to start running them down as soon as we’re finished here.”
“Can I see the list?”
“’Course.”
For the fourth time Ballard went into the backpack and this time pulled out her own notebook. She opened it and turned it around on the table so Bosch could read the list.
Maxwell Talis
Donald Hilton
Sandra Hilton
Thompson widow
Vincent Pilkey, dealer
Dennard Dorsey, dealer/snitch—protected
Brendan Sloan, narcotics
Elvin Kidd
Nathan Brazil, roommate
Bosch nodded as he looked at the names. Ballard took this to mean he was in agreement.
“Hopefully some of them are still alive. Sloan is still in the department, right?”
“Runs West Bureau. My boss, technically.”
“Then all you have to do is get around his adjutant.”
“That won’t be a problem. Are you going to eat the rest of that donut?”
“No. It’s all yours.”
Ballard grabbed the donut and took a bite. Bosch lifted his cane from the back of the other chair.
“I gotta get back to the courthouse,” he said. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” Ballard said, her mouth full. “Did you see this?”
She put the rest of the donut back on the plate, then opened the binder, unsnapped the rings, and handed Bosch the document she had moved to the front of the murder book.
“It’s redacted,” she said. “Who would black out lines in the statement from the parents?”
“I saw that too,” Bosch said. “It’s weird.”
“The whole book is confidential, why black anything out?”
“I know. I don’t get it.”
“And we don’t know who did it—whether it was Thompson or the original investigators. When you look at those two lines in context—the stepfather talking about adopting the boy—you have to wonder if they were protecting somebody. I’m going to try to run down Hilton’s birth certificate through Sacramento, but that will take forever because I don’t have his original name. That was probably redacted too.”
“I could try to run it down at Norwalk. Next time I go to see Maddie on a weekday.”
Norwalk was the site of Los Angeles County’s record archives. It was at the far south end of the county and with traffic could take an hour each way. Birth records were not accessible by computer to the public or law enforcement. Proper ID had to be shown to pull a birth certificate, especially one guarded by adoption rules.
“That’ll only work if Hilton was born in the county. But worth a try, I guess.”
“Well, one way or another we’ll figure it out. It’s a mystery for now.”
“What’s at the courthouse?”
“I want to see if I can get a subpoena. I want to get there before the judges all split.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. So, you’ll go see Margaret Thompson later and I’ll run down these names. The ones that are still alive.”
Bosch stood up, holding the docs and his laptop under his arm. He didn’t have a briefcase. He hooked his cane back on the chair so he could reach into his pocket with his free hand.
“So, did you sleep yet today or just go right into this?”
“Yes, Dad, I slept.”
“Don’t call me that. Only one person can call me that and she never does.”
He pulled out some cash and left a twenty on the table, tipping as though there had been four people after all.
“How is Maddie?” Ballard asked.
“A little freaked out at the moment,” Bosch said.
“Why, what happened?”
“She’s got one semester to go down at Chapman and then she graduates. Three weeks ago some creep broke into the house she shares near the school with three other girls. It was a
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