EchoPark

“Too bad. I was just getting started.”

Bosch wondered how many victims there would have been if he hadn’t stopped him. He wondered if he could trade Roger Boylan for Raynard Waits and call it even. On the one hand, he thought he could. On the other hand, he knew it wasn’t a zero-sum game. The true detective knew that coming out even in homicide work was not good enough. Not by a long shot.

“I hope I’ve helped,” Rachel said.

He looked up from the memory of Boylan to Rachel’s eyes.

“I think you did. I think I’ll know better who and what I am dealing with when I go into the room with him tomorrow.”

She stood up from the table.

“I meant about the other thing.”

Bosch stood.

“That, too. You’ve helped a lot.”

He came around the table so he could walk her to the door.

“Be careful, Harry.”

“I know. You said that. But you don’t have to worry. It will be a full-security situation.”

“I don’t mean the physical danger as much as I mean the psychological. Guard yourself, Harry. Please.”

“I will,” he said.

It was time to go to the door but she was hesitating. She looked down at the contents of the file spread across the table and then at Bosch.

“I was hoping you would call me sometime,” she said. “But not about a case.”

Bosch had to take a few moments before coming back.

“I thought because of what I said-what we said-that…”

He wasn’t sure how to finish. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. She reached up and put her hand lightly on his chest. He took a step closer, coming into her space. He then put his arms around her and pulled her close.

9

LATER, AFTER THEY HAD made love, Bosch and Rachel remained in bed, talking about anything they could think of except what they had just done. Eventually they came back around to the case and the next morning’s interview with Raynard Waits.

“I can’t believe that after all this time I’m going to sit down face-to-face with her killer,” Bosch said. “It’s kind of like a dream. I actually have dreamed of catching the guy. I mean, it was never Waits in the dream but I dreamed about closing out the case.”

“Who was it in the dream?” she asked.

Her head was resting on his chest. He couldn’t see her face but he could smell her hair. Under the sheets she had one leg over one of his.

“It was this guy I always thought could be good for it. But I never had anything on him. I guess because he was always an asshole, I wanted it to be him.”

“Well, did he have any co

Bosch tried to shrug but it was difficult with their bodies so entwined.

“He knew about the garage where we found the car and had an ex-girlfriend who was a ringer for Gesto. And he had anger-management issues. No real evidence. I just thought it was him. I followed him once way back during the first year of the investigation. He was working as a security guard up in the oil fields behind Baldwin Hills. You know where that is?”

“You mean where you see the oil pumps when you’re coming in on La Cienega from the airport?”

“Yeah, right. That’s the place. Well, this kid’s family owned a chunk of those fields, and his old man was trying to straighten him out, I guess. You know, make him work for a living even though they had all the money in the world. So he was working security up there and I was watching him one day. He came across these kids who were fooling around up in there, just trespassing and messing around. They were just kids, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Two boys from the nearby neighborhood.”

“What did he do to them?”

“He drew down on them, then handcuffed them to one of the pumps. Their backs were to each other and they were cuffed around this pole that was sort of like an anchor for the pump. And then he got back in his pickup and drove away.”

“He just left them there?”

“That’s what I thought he was doing but he was coming back. I was watching with binoculars from a ridge all the way across La Cienega and could see the whole oil field from up there. He had another guy with him and they drove over to this shack where I guess they kept samples of the oil they were pumping out of the ground. They went in there and came out with two buckets of this stuff, put ’em in the back of the pickup and drove back. They then dumped that shit all over the two kids.”

Rachel got up on one elbow and looked at him.

“And you just watched this happen?”

“I told you, I was clear across La Cienega on the next ridge. Before they built houses up there. If he went any further I was going to try to intervene somehow, but then he let them go. Besides, I didn’t want him to know I was watching him. At that point he didn’t know I was thinking of him for Gesto.”

She nodded like she understood and no longer questioned his lack of action.

“He just let them go?” she asked.

“He uncuffed them, kicked one of them in the butt and let them go. I could tell they were crying and scared.”

Rachel shook her head in disgust.

“What’s this guy’s name?”

“Anthony Garland. His father is Thomas Rex Garland. You might have heard of him.”

Rachel shook her head, not recognizing the name.

“Well, Anthony might not have been Gesto’s killer but he sounds like a complete asshole.”

Bosch nodded.

“He is. You want to see him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve got a ‘greatest hits’ video. I’ve had him in an interview room three times in thirteen years. Each interview was on tape.”

“You have the tape here?”

Bosch nodded, knowing that she might find it strange or off-putting that he studied interrogation tapes at home.

“I had them copied onto one tape. I brought it home to watch the last time I worked the case.”

Rachel seemed to consider his answer before she responded.

“Then pop it in. Let’s take a look at this guy.”

Bosch got out of bed, slipped on his boxer shorts and turned on the lamp. He went out to the living room and looked in the cabinet beneath the television. He had several crime scene tapes from old cases, as well as various other tapes and DVDs. He finally located a VHS tape marked GARLAND on the box and took it back to the bedroom.

He had a television with a built-in VCR on the bureau. He turned it on, slid in the tape and sat on the edge of the bed with the remote. He kept his boxers on now that he and Rachel were working. Rachel stayed under the covers and as the tape was cuing up she reached a foot toward him and tapped her toes on his back.

“Is this what you do with all the girls you bring here? Show them your interrogation techniques?”

Bosch glanced back at her and was almost serious with his response.

“Rachel, I think you’re the only person in the world I could do this with.”

She smiled.

“I think I get you, Bosch.”

He looked back at the screen. The tape was playing. He hit the mute with the remote.

“This first one is March eleventh of ’ninety-four. It’s about six months after Gesto disappeared and we were grasping for anything. We didn’t have enough to arrest him-it wasn’t even close-but I was able to convince him to come into the station to give a statement. He didn’t know I had the bead on him. He thought he was just going to talk about the apartment where his ex-girlfriend had lived.”

On the screen was a grainy color picture of a small room with a table at which two men sat. One was a much younger-looking Harry Bosch and the other was a man in his early twenties with wavy surfer-white hair. Anthony Garland. He was wearing a T-shirt that said Lakers across the chest. The sleeves were tight on his arms, and tattoo ink was visible on his left biceps. Black barbed wire wrapped the muscles of the arm.

“He came in voluntarily. He came in looking like he was headed to a day at the beach. Anyway…”

He brought up the sound. On the screen, Garland was looking all around the room with a slight smile on his face.

“So this is where it happens, huh?” he asked.

“Where what happens?” Bosch asked.

“You know, you break the bad guys down and they confess to all the crimes.”

He smiled coyly.

“Sometimes,” Bosch said. “But let’s talk about Marie Gesto. Did you know her?”

“No, I told you I didn’t know her. Never saw her before in my life.”

“Before what?”

“Before you showed me her picture.”

“So if somebody told me you knew her, then they’d be lying.”

“Fucking-A right. Who told you that shit?”

“But you knew about the empty garage at the High Tower, right?”

“Yeah, well, my girlfriend had just moved out and so, yeah, I knew the place was empty. That doesn’t mean I stashed the car in there. Look, you asked me all of this stuff at the house. I thought there was something new going on here. Am I under arrest or something?”

“No, Anthony, you are not under arrest. I just wanted you to come down so we could go over some of this stuff.”

“I’ve already gone over it with you.”

“But that was before we knew some other things about you and about her. Now it’s important to go over the same ground again. Make a formal record of it.”

Garland’s face seemed to momentarily contort in anger. He leaned across the table.

“What things? What the fuck are you talking about? I had nothing to do with this. I’ve told you that at least twice now. Why aren’t you out there looking for the person who did it?”

Bosch waited until Garland calmed a bit before answering.

“Because maybe I think I’m with the person who did it.”

“Fuck you, man. You’ve got nothing on me because there’s nothing to get. I’ve told you this from day one. I’m not the guy!”

Now Bosch leaned across the table. Their faces were a foot apart.

“I know what you told me, Anthony. But that was before I went to Austin and talked to your girlfriend. She told me some things about you that, frankly, Anthony, require me to pay a little more attention.”

“Fuck her. She’s a whore!”

“Yeah? If she’s all of that, then why’d you get angry with her when she left you? Why did she have to run from you? Why didn’t you just let her go?”

“Because nobody leaves me. I leave them. Okay?”

Bosch leaned back and nodded.

“Okay. So in as much detail as you can remember, tell me what you did on September ninth of last year. Tell me where you went and who you saw.”

Using the remote, Bosch started fast-forwarding the tape.