9 Dragons

know. He said
I’m
not dependable, so I’m the one who has to go.”
    “Look, Ignacio, it’s been two years, okay? I’ve given you two years of chances. But now’s not the time to talk about this. We’ll do it later, okay? In the meantime, just sit tight. We’re on our way.”
    “No, you sit tight, Harry.”
    Bosch paused for a moment.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means, I’ll handle Li.”
    “Ignacio, listen to me. You’re by yourself. You don’t go in that store until you have an arrest team with you. You understand? You want to put the cuffs on him, fine, you can do that. But you wait until we get there.”
    “I don’t need a team and I don’t need you, Harry.”
    Ferras disconnected. Bosch hit redial as he started moving toward the lieutenant’s office.
    Ferras didn’t pick up and the call went direct to voice mail. When Bosch entered Gandle’s office, the lieutenant was buttoning his shirt over a Kevlar vest he had donned for the field trip.
    “We’ve got to move,” Bosch said. “Ferras is going off the map.”

47
    A fter returning from the funeral, Bosch took off his tie and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator. He went out on the deck, sat back on the lounge chair and closed his eyes. He thought about putting on some music, maybe a little Art Pepper to bounce him out of the blues.
    But he found himself unable to move. He just kept his eyes closed and tried to forget as much as he could about the two weeks that had just passed. He knew this was an unattainable task but it was worth a try and the beer would help, if only on a temporary basis. It had been the last one in the refrigerator and he had vowed that it would be the last one for him as well. He had his daughter to raise now and he would need to be the best he could be with her.
    As if thoughts of her conjured her presence, he heard the sliding door open.
    “Hey, Mads.”
    “Dad.”
    In only the one word her voice sounded different, troubled. He opened his eyes and squinted in the afternoon sunlight. She had already changed out of her dress and was wearing blue jeans and a shirt that had come from the bag her mother had packed for her. Bosch had noticed she wore more of the few things her mother had put into the backpack in Hong Kong than all of the clothes they had shopped for together.
    “What’s up?”
    “I wanted to talk to you.”
    “Okay.”
    “I’m really sorry about your partner.”
    “Me, too. He made a bad mistake and paid for it. But I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like the punishment fit the crime, you know?”
    Bosch’s mind momentarily shifted to the ghastly scene he’d encountered inside the manager’s office of Fortune Fine Foods & Liquor. Ferras facedown on the floor, shot four times in the back. Robert Li cowering in the corner, shaking and moaning, staring at his sister’s body near the door. After killing Ferras she had turned the gun on herself. Mrs. Li, the matriarch of this family of killers and victims, was standing stoically in the doorway when Bosch got there.
    Ignacio had not seen Mia coming. She had dropped her mother off at the store and then driven away. But something made her come back, sneaking down the alley in her car and parking in the back lot. It was speculated afterward in the squad room that she had spotted Ferras on his surveillance and knew that the police were about to close in. She had driven home, retrieved the gun her murdered father had kept below the front counter at his store, and then gone back to the store in the Valley. It was unclear and would always remain a mystery what her plan was. Perhaps she was looking for Lam or her mother. Or maybe she was just waiting for the police. But she returned to the store and came in through the employee entrance in the back at approximately the same time Ferras entered through the front door to single-handedly attempt to arrest Robert. She watched Ferras enter her brother’s office and then came up behind him.
    Bosch wondered what Ignacio’s final thoughts were as the bullets ripped through his body. He wondered if his young partner was amazed that lightning could strike twice, the second time finishing the job.
    Bosch pushed the vision and the thoughts away. He sat up and looked at his daughter. He saw the burden in her eyes and knew what was coming.
    “Dad?”
    “What is it, baby?”
    “I made a bad mistake, too. Only I’m not the one who paid for it.”
    “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
    “When