Echo Park

O’Shea’s lips formed a tight line. Blood seemed to collect beneath the skin around his eyes.
    “Detective,” he said. “I will give you that. I’m running for election and clearing eleven murders with convictions would be helpful to my cause. But do not suggest the election is my only motivation here. Every night that those parents who carried dreams for their daughter go to bed not knowing where she is or what happened to her is a night of terrible pain as far as I am concerned. Even after thirteen years. So I want to move quickly and assuredly and you can keep your speculations about anything else to yourself.”
    “Fine,” Bosch said. “When do we talk to this guy?”
    O’Shea looked at Olivas and then back at Bosch.
    “Well, I think we should have an exchange of files first. You should come up to speed on Waits and I’d like Freddy to familiarize himself with the Gesto file. Once that is done we’ll set something up with Maury Swann. What about tomorrow?”
    “Tomorrow’s fine,” Bosch said. “Swann will be there during the interview?”
    O’Shea nodded.
    “Maury’s riding this one all the way. He’ll milk every angle, probably end up with a book and a movie deal before this thing’s over. Maybe even a guest anchor slot on Court TV.”
    “Yeah, well,” Bosch said, “at least then he’d be out of the courtroom.”
    “Never thought of it that way,” O’Shea said. “Did you bring the Gesto records?”
    Bosch opened his briefcase on his lap and took out the investigation file, which was contained in a three-inch-thick binder generally known as a murder book. He handed it to O’Shea, who turned and gave it to Olivas.
    “And I will give you this in return,” O’Shea said.
    He slid the file back into the accordion folder and handed it all across the desk.
    “Happy reading,” he said. “Are you sure about tomorrow?”
    Bosch looked at Rider to see if she had an objection. They had another day before they needed to walk the Matarese filing to the DA. But the work was mostly finished and he knew Rider could handle the rest. When Rider said nothing Bosch looked back at O’Shea.
    “We’ll be ready,” he said.
    “Then I will call Maury and set it up.”
    “Where is Waits?”
    “Right here in the building,” O’Shea said. “We’ve got him in high-power on keep-away status.”
    “Good,” Rider said.
    “What about the other seven?” Bosch asked.
    “What about them?”
    “Are there no files?”
    “The proffer, as well as Maury Swann, indicates that these were women who were never found and possibly never reported missing in the first place,” O’Shea said. “Waits is willing to lead us to them but there is no prep work we can do for them.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “Any other questions?” O’Shea asked, signaling that the meeting was over.
    “We’ll let you know,” Bosch said.
    “I know I am repeating myself but I feel I need to,” O’Shea said. “This investigation is all off the record. That file is a proffer that is part of a plea negotiation. Nothing in that file or anything that he tells you can ever be used to make a case against him. If this falls apart, then you will not be able to use the information to pursue him. Is that clearly understood?”
    Bosch didn’t answer.
    “It’s clear,” Rider said.
    “There is one exception that I have negotiated. If he lies, if you catch him at any time in a lie or if any piece of information he gives you during this process proves to be knowingly false, all bets are off and we can go after him for all of it. He has been made quite aware of this, too.”
    Bosch nodded. He stood up. Rider did, too.
    “Do you need me to call someone to free you two up?” O’Shea asked. “I can flex a muscle if needed.”
    Rider shook her head.
    “I don’t think so,” she said. “Harry was already working the Gesto case. The seven women might be unknown victims but there’s got to be a file in Archives on the man in the pawnshop. It all cuts Open-Unsolved in. We can handle our supervisor.”
    “Okay, then. As soon as I have the interview set up I will call. Meantime, all of my numbers are in the file. Freddy’s, too.”
    Bosch nodded to O’Shea and threw a glance at Olivas before turning to the door.
    “Detectives?” O’Shea said.
    Bosch and Rider turned back to him. He was standing now. He wanted to shake their hands.
    “I am hoping you are on my side on this,” O’Shea said.
    Bosch shook his hand, unsure whether O’Shea