A Darkness More Than Night

before. She was co-prosecutor on the case and they had worked on Bosch’s testimony throughout the weekend. His call found her still in the trial team’s temporary office in the Van Nuys courthouse.
    “Listen, I don’t want to rain on the parade but Annabelle Crowe is gone.”
    “What do you mean, gone?”
    “I mean gone, baby, gone. I’m standing in what was her apartment. It’s empty.”
    “Shit! We really need her, Harry. When did she move out?”
    “I don’t know. I just discovered she was gone.”
    “Did you talk to the apartment manager?”
    “Not yet. But he’s not going to know much more than how long ago she split. If she’s running from the trial she wouldn’t be leaving any forwarding addresses with the management.”
    “Well, when did you talk to her last?”
    “Thursday. I called her here. But that line is disconnected today. No forwarding number.”
    “Shit!”
    “I know. You said that.”
    “She got the subpoena, right?”
    “Yeah, she got it Thursday. That’s why I called. To make sure.”
    “Okay, then maybe she’ll be here tomorrow.”
    Bosch looked around the empty apartment.
    “I wouldn’t count on it.”
    He looked at his watch. It was after five. Because he had been so sure about Annabelle Crowe, she had been the last witness he was going to check on. There had been no hint that she was going to split. Now he knew he would be spending the night trying to run her down.
    “What can you do?” Langwiser asked.
    “I’ve got some information on her I can run down. She’s got to be in town. She’s an actress, where else is she going to go?”
    “New York?”
    “That’s where real actors go. She’s a face. She’ll stay here.”
    “Find her, Harry. We’ll need her by next week.”
    “I’ll try.”
    There was a moment of silence while they both considered things.
    “You think Storey got to her?” Langwiser finally asked.
    “I’m wondering. He could’ve gotten to her with what she needs – a job, a part, a paycheck. When I find her I’ll be asking that.”
    “Okay, Harry. Good luck. If you get her tonight, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “Right.”
    Bosch closed the phone and put it down on the kitchen counter. From his jacket pocket he took out a thin stack of three-by-five cards. Each card had the name of one of the witnesses he was responsible for vetting and preparing for trial. Home and work addresses as well as phone numbers and pager numbers were noted on the cards. He checked the card assigned to Annabelle Crowe and then punched her pager number into his phone. A recorded message said the pager was no longer in service.
    He clapped the phone closed and looked at the card again. The name and number of Annabelle Crowe’s agent were listed at the bottom. He decided that the agent might be the one tie she wouldn’t sever.
    He put the phone and cards back into his pockets. This was one inquiry he was going to make in person.

Chapter 13
    McCaleb made the crossing by himself, The Following Sea arriving at Avalon Harbor just as darkness did. Buddy Lockridge had stayed behind at Cabrillo Marina because no new charters had come up and he wouldn’t be needed until Saturday. As he arrived at the island McCaleb radioed the harbor master’s boat on channel 16 and got help mooring the boat.
    The added weight of the two heavy books he had found in the used-books section at Dutton’s bookstore in Brentwood plus the smaller cooler filled with frozen tamales made the walk up the hill to his house exhausting. He had to stop twice on the side of the road to rest. Each time he sat down on the cooler and took one of the books out of his leather bag so that he could once more study the dark work of Hieronymus Bosch – even in the shadows of evening.
    Since his visit to the Getty, the images in the Bosch paintings were never far from his thoughts. Nep Fitzgerald had said something at the end of the meeting in her office. Just before closing the book on the plates reproducing The Garden of Earthly Delights she looked at him with a small smile, as if she had something to say but was hesitant.
    “What?” he said.
    “Nothing really, just an observation.”
    “Go ahead and make it. I’d like to hear it.”
    “I was just going to mention that a lot of the critics and scholars who view Bosch’s work see corollaries to contemporary times. That’s the mark of a great artist – if his work stands the test of time. If it has the power to