City Of Bones

else?”
    “Not much. We’ve got a skateboard.”
    “A skateboard?”
    Bosch explained about the call-in tip he had not had time to follow up on because of the suicide. As he told it, he could see Irving warming to the possibility that a skateboard in Trent’s possession could be linked to the bones on the hill.
    “I want that to be your priority,” he said. “I want that nailed down and I want to know it the moment you do.”
    Bosch only nodded.
    “Yes, sir,” Billets threw in.
    Irving went silent and studied the two pages on his desk. Finally, he picked up the one he had not read from-the page Bosch guessed was the loaded press release-and turned at his desk. He slid it into a shredder, which whined loudly as it destroyed the document. He then turned back to his desk and picked up the remaining document.
    “Officer Medina, you may put this out to the press.”
    He handed the document to Medina, who stood up to receive it. Irving checked his watch.
    “Just in time for the six o’clock news,” he said.
    “Sir?” Medina said.
    “Yes?”
    “Uh, there have been many inquiries about the erroneous reports on Channel Four. Should we-”
    “Say it is against policy to comment on any internal investigation. You may also add that the department will not condone or accept the leaking of confidential information to the media. That is all, Officer Medina.”
    Medina looked like he had another question to ask but knew better. He nodded and left the office.
    Irving nodded to his adjutant and she closed the office door, remaining in the anteroom outside. The deputy chief then turned his head, looking from Billets to Edgar to Bosch.
    “We have a delicate situation here,” he said. “Are we clear on how we are proceeding?”
    “Yes,” Billets and Edgar said in unison.
    Bosch said nothing. Irving looked at him.
    “Detective, do you have something to say?”
    Bosch thought a moment before answering.
    “I just want to say that I am going to find out who killed that boy and put him up in that hole. If it’s Trent, fine. Good. But if it’s not him, I’m going to keep going.”
    Irving saw something on his desk. Something small like a hair or other near-microscopic particle. Something Bosch couldn’t see. Irving picked it up with two fingers and dropped it into the trash can behind him. As he brushed his fingers together over the shredder, Bosch looked on and wondered if the demonstration was some sort of threat directed at him.
    “Not every case is solved, Detective, not every case is solvable,” he said. “At some point our duties may require us to move on to more pressing matters.”
    “Are you giving me a deadline?”
    “No, Detective. I am saying I understand you. And I just hope you understand me.”
    “What’s going to happen with Thornton?”
    “It’s under internal review. I can’t discuss it with you at this time.”
    Bosch shook his head in frustration.
    “Watch yourself, Detective Bosch,” Irving said curtly. “I’ve shown a lot of patience with you. On this case and others before it.”
    “What Thornton did jammed up this case. He should-”
    “If he is responsible he will be dealt with accordingly. But keep in mind he was not operating in a vacuum. He needed to get the information in order to leak it. The investigation is ongoing.”
    Bosch stared at Irving. The message was clear. Kiz Rider could go down with Thornton if Bosch didn’t fall into step with Irving’s march.
    “You read me, Detective?”
    “I read you. Loud and clear.”

Chapter 21
    BEFORE taking Edgar back to Hollywood Division and then heading out to Venice, Bosch got the evidence box containing the skateboard out of the trunk and took it back inside Parker Center to the SID lab. At the counter he asked for Antoine Jesper. While he waited, he studied the skateboard. It appeared to be made out of laminated plywood. It had a lacquered finish to which several decals had been applied, most notably a skull and crossbones located in the middle of the top surface of the board.
    When Jesper came to the counter, Bosch presented him with the evidence box.
    “I want to know who made this, when it was made and where it was sold,” he said. “It’s priority one. I got the sixth floor riding my back on this case.”
    “No problem. I can tell you the make right now. It’s a Boney board. They don’t make ’ em anymore. He sold out and moved, I think, to Hawaii.”
    “How do you know all of that?”
    “’Cause when I