City Of Bones

ten years he’s had two DUIs. He drives on a restricted license at the moment. I also ran his Social and came up with a hit-he works for the city.”
    Bosch’s face showed his surprise.
    “Doing what?”
    “He works part-time at a driving range at the municipal golf course right next to the trailer park. I made a call to Parks and Recs-discreetly. Delacroix drives the cart that collects all the balls. You know, out on the range. The guy everybody tries to hit when he’s out there. I guess he comes over from the trailer park and does it a couple times a day.”
    “Okay.”
    “Next, Christine Dorsett Delacroix, the name of the mother on Sheila’s birth certificate. I ran her Social and got her now listed as a Christine Dorsett Waters. Address is in Palm Springs. Must’ve gone there to re-invent herself. New name, new life, whatever.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “You pull the divorce?”
    “Got it. She filed on Samuel Delacroix in ’seventy-three. The boy would’ve been about five at the time. Cited mental and physical abuse. Details of what that abuse consisted of were not included. It never went to trial, so the details never came out.”
    “He didn’t contest it?”
    “It looks like a deal was made. He got custody of the two kids and didn’t contest. Nice and clean. The file’s about twelve pages thick. I’ve seen some that are twelve inches. My own, for example.”
    “If Arthur was five… some of those injuries predate that, according to the anthropologist.”
    Edgar shook his head.
    “The extract says the marriage had ended three years prior and they were living separately. So it looks like she split when the boy was about two-like Sheila said. Harry, you usually don’t refer to the vic by name.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “Just pointing it out.”
    “Thank you. Anything else in the file?”
    “That’s about it. I got copies if you want it.”
    “Okay, what about the skateboard friend?”
    “Got him, too. Still alive, still local. But there’s a problem. I ran all the usual data banks and came up with three John Stokes in L.A. that fall into the right age range. Two are in the Valley, both clean. The third’s a player. Multiple arrests for petty theft, auto theft, burglary and possession going back to a full juvy jacket. Five years ago he finally ran out of second chances and got sent to Corcoran to iron out a nickel. Did two and a half to parole.”
    “You talk to his agent? Is Stokes still on the line?”
    “Talked to his agent, yes. No, Stokes isn’t on the hook. He cleared parole two months ago. The agent doesn’t know where he is.”
    “Damn.”
    “Yeah, but I got him to pull a look at the client bio. It has Stokes growing up mostly in Mid-Wilshire. In and out of foster homes. In and out of trouble. He’s gotta be our guy.”
    “The agent think he’s still in L.A.?”
    “Yeah, he thinks so. We just gotta find him. I already had patrol go by his last known-he moved out of there as soon as he cleared parole.”
    “So he’s in the wind. Beautiful.”
    Edgar nodded.
    “We have to put him on the box,” Bosch said. “Start with-”
    “Did it,” Edgar said. “I also typed up a roll-call notice and gave it to Mankiewicz a while ago. He promised to get it read at all calls. I’m having a batch of visor photos made, too.”
    “Good.”
    Bosch was impressed. Getting photos of Stokes to clip to the sun visors of every patrol car was the sort of extra step Edgar usually didn’t bother to make.
    “We’ll get him, Harry. I’m not sure what good he’ll do us, but we’ll get him.”
    “He could be a key witness. If Arthur-I mean, the vic-ever told him his father was beating him, then we’ve got something.”
    Bosch looked at his watch. It was almost two. He wanted to keep things moving, keep the investigation focused and urgent. For him the most difficult time was waiting. Whether it was for lab results or other cops to make moves, it was always when he became most agitated.
    “What do you have going tonight?” he asked Edgar.
    “Tonight? Nothing much.”
    “You got your kid tonight?”
    “No, Thursdays. Why?”
    “I’m thinking about going out to the Springs.”
    “Now?”
    “Yeah, talk to the ex-wife.”
    He saw Edgar check his watch. He knew that even if they left that moment, they still wouldn’t get back until late.
    “It’s all right. I can go by myself. Just give me the address.”
    “Nah, I’m going with you.”
    “You sure? You don’t have to. I just don’t