City Of Bones

believed true remorse was rare in the world. He treated the unanticipated confession with extreme caution, always looking for the play behind the words. To him, every case was like a house under construction. When a confession came into play, it became the concrete slab the house was built upon. If it was mixed wrong or poured wrong, the house might not withstand the jolt of the first earthquake. As he drove Delacroix toward Parker Center, Bosch couldn’t help but think there were unseen cracks in this house’s foundation. And that the earthquake was coming.
    Bosch’s thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone chirping. It was Lt. Billets.
    “You guys slipped out of here before we had a chance to talk.”
    “We’re taking him down to booking.”
    “You sound happy about it.”
    “Well… I can’t really talk.”
    “You’re in the car with him?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Is it serious or are you just playing mother hen?”
    “I don’t know yet.”
    “I’ve got Irving and Media Relations calling me. I guess word is already out through the DA’s press office that charges are coming. How do you want me to handle it?”
    Bosch looked at his watch. He figured that after booking Delacroix they could get to Sheila Delacroix’s house by eight. The trouble was that an announcement to the media might mean that reporters would get to her before that.
    “Tell you what, we want to get to the daughter first. Can you get to the DA’s office and see if they can hold it till nine? Same with Media Relations.”
    “No problem. And look, after you dump the guy, call me when you can talk. At home. If there’s a problem, I want to know about it.”
    “You got it.”
    He closed the phone and looked over at Edgar.
    “First thing Portugal must’ve done was call his press office.”
    “Figures. Probably his first big case. He’s going to milk it for all he can.”
    “Yeah.”
    They drove in silence for a few minutes. Bosch thought about what he had insinuated to Billets. He couldn’t quite place his reason for discomfort. The case was now moving from the realm of the police investigation to the realm of the court system. There was still a lot of investigative work to be done, but all cases changed once a suspect was charged and in custody and the prosecution began. Most times Bosch felt a sense of relief and fulfillment at the moment he was taking a killer to be booked. He felt as though he was a prince of the city, that he had made a difference in some way. But not this time and he wasn’t sure why.
    He finally tied off his feelings on his own missteps and the uncontrollable movements of the case. He decided he could not celebrate or feel much like a prince of the city when the case had cost so much. Yes, they had the admitted killer of a child in the car with them and they were taking him to jail. But Nicholas Trent and Julia Brasher were dead. The house he had built of the case would always have rooms containing their ghosts. They would always haunt him.
    “Was that my daughter you were talking about? You’re going to talk to her?”
    Bosch looked up into the rearview mirror. Delacroix was hunched forward because his hands were cuffed behind his back. Bosch had to adjust the mirror and turn on the dome light to see his eyes.
    “Yeah. We’re going to give her the news.”
    “Do you have to? Do you have to bring her into this?”
    Bosch watched him in the mirror for a moment. Delacroix’s eyes were shifting back and forth.
    “We’ve got no choice,” Bosch said. “It’s her brother, her father.”
    Bosch put the car onto the Los Angeles Street exit. They would be at the booking entrance at the back of Parker Center in five minutes.
    “What are you going to tell her?”
    “What you told us. That you killed Arthur. We want to tell her before the reporters get to her or she sees it on the news.”
    He checked the mirror. He saw Delacroix nod his approval. Then the man’s eyes came up and looked at Bosch’s in the mirror.
    “Will you tell her something for me?”
    “Tell her what?”
    Bosch reached inside his coat pocket for his recorder but then realized he didn’t have it with him. He silently cursed Bradley and his own decision to cooperate with IAD.
    Delacroix was quiet for a moment. He moved his head as he looked from side to side as if searching for the thing he wanted to say to his daughter. Then he looked back up at the mirror and spoke.
    “Just tell her that I’m sorry for everything. Just like