Echo Park

of his morning’s activities.
    “So what are you going to do?”
    “Well, I’m thinking about seeing if the FBI might be interested in joining the case.”
    “And what about the case would carry it across the federal threshold?”
    “You know, corruption of public officials, campaign finance violations, kidnapping, cats and dogs living together—the usual stuff.”
    She stayed serious.
    “I don’t know, Harry. You open that door and there’s no telling where it will go.”
    “But I’ve got an insider. Somebody who will watch out for me and safeguard the case.”
    “Wrong. They probably wouldn’t let me anywhere near this. It’s not my group and there’s the conflict of interest.”
    “What conflict? We’ve worked together before.”
    “I’m just telling you how this will likely be received.”
    “Look, I need a search warrant. If I go off the reservation to get one I probably won’t be able to come back on again. I know it will be the last straw with Pratt, that’s for sure. But if I can say that I was brought into a federal investigation, then that would give me a valid explanation. It would give me an out. All I want is to look at Foxworth’s DCFS file. I think it will lead us to whatever’s in Echo Park.”
    She was quiet for a long moment before responding.
    “Where are you right now?”
    “I’m still at DCFS .”
    “Go get a doughnut or something. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    “You sure?”
    “No, but that’s what we’re going to do.”
    She hung up the phone. Bosch closed his and looked around. Instead of a doughnut he went over to a newspaper box and got the morning edition of the
Times.
He took a seat on the planter that ran along the front length of the DCFS building and looked through the paper for stories on the Raynard Waits and Beachwood Canyon investigations.
    There was no story on the abduction on Hollywood Boulevard because that had occurred during the night and long after the paper’s deadline. The coverage of the Waits story had moved off the front page to the state and local section but it was still extensive. There were three stories in all. The most prominent report was on the so-far-unsuccessful nationwide search for the escaped serial killer. Most of the information had already been rendered obsolete by the events of the night. There was no nationwide search anymore. Waits was still here in the city.
    This story jumped inside the section and was framed by two sidebars. One was an update on the investigation that filled in some of the details of what had happened during the shoot-out and escape, and the other story was a political update. This latter story was written by Keisha Russell and Bosch quickly scanned it to see if anything they had discussed about Rick O’Shea’s campaign financing had gotten into the paper. Luckily there was nothing, and he felt his trust in her rising.
    Bosch finished reading the stories and there was still no sign of Rachel. He moved into other sections of the paper, studying the box scores of sporting events he cared nothing about and reading reviews of movies he would never see. When there was nothing left for him to read he put the paper aside and started pacing in front of the building. He became anxious, worried that he’d lose the edge the morning’s discoveries had given him.
    He got out his phone to call her but decided instead to call St. Joseph’s Hospital and check on Kiz Rider’s condition. He was transferred to the third-floor nursing station and was then put on hold. While he was waiting to be connected he saw Rachel finally pull up in a federal cruiser. He closed the phone, crossed the sidewalk and met her as she was getting out.
    “What’s the plan?” he said by way of greeting.
    “What, no ‘how are you doing’ or ‘thanks for coming’?”
    “Thanks for coming. What’s the plan?”
    They started walking into the building.
    “The plan is the federal plan. I go in and draw down on the man in charge the full force and weight of the government of this great country. I raise the specter of terrorism and he gives us the file.”
    Bosch stopped.
    “You call that a plan?”
    “It’s worked pretty well for us for more than fifty years.”
    She didn’t stop. He now had to hurry to catch up.
    “How do you know it’s a man in charge?”
    “Because it always is. Which way?”
    He pointed straight ahead in the main hallway. Rachel didn’t break stride.
    “I didn’t wait around for forty minutes