The Black Box

Sheriff Drummond because this isn’t Stanislaus County. This is San Joaquin County, and our sheriff is named Bruce Ely. I could call him but I don’t want to piss him off over something as small as a suspected drunk driver.”
    Bosch saw Banks drop his head down as he realized he had crossed the county line and gone from protected to unprotected territory.
    “Step out of the car,” Bosch said. “I won’t ask you again.”
    Banks shot his right hand to the ignition and tried to start the car. But Bosch was ready for it. He dropped the MagLite and quickly reached into the car, prying Banks’s hand off the ignition before he could get the car started. He then held Banks by the wrist with one hand while he used the other to open the door. He pulled Banks out of the car and spun him around, pushing his chest against the side of the car.
    “You are under arrest, Mr. Banks. For resisting an officer and suspicion of drunk driving.”
    Banks struggled as Bosch pulled his arms behind his back to cuff him. He managed to turn and look back. The driver’s door was open and the interior light was on. There was enough light for him to recognize Bosch.
    “You?”
    “That’s right.”
    Bosch managed to finish cuffing Banks’s wrists together.
    “What the fuck is this?”
    “This is you being arrested. Now we’re going to walk to the back door of my car, and if you struggle with me again, you are going to trip and fall right on your face, you understand? You’ll be spitting out gravel, Banks. You want that?”
    “No, I just want a lawyer.”
    “You get a lawyer once you’re booked. Let’s go.”
    Bosch jerked him away from his car and walked him back to the Crown Vic. The strobe light was still pulsing. Bosch took him to the rear passenger-side door, put him in the seat, and then buckled his seat belt.
    “If you move from this spot while we’re driving, you’re going to get the butt end of my flashlight in your mouth. Then you’ll want a dentist to go with your lawyer. Am I clear?”
    “Yes. I won’t fight. Just take me in and get me my lawyer.”
    Bosch slammed the door shut. He went back to Banks’s car, took the keys out of the ignition, and locked it up. The last thing he did was go back to his car for the “Out of Gas” note he had used the night before. He took it to Banks’s car and clipped it under the windshield wiper.
    As he returned to his car, Bosch saw a car silhouetted by the lights from the freeway. The car was dark and parked on the shoulder of the freeway exit. Bosch didn’t remember passing a car parked there when he exited behind Banks.
    The interior of the car was too dark for Bosch to see if there was anyone in it. He opened his door and got in, killed the strobe, and dropped it into drive. He then quickly pulled outof the gravel lot and drove down the freeway frontage road. The whole way he kept his eye on the rearview mirror, half to check on Banks and half to check for the mystery car.
    Bosch pulled into the parking lot of the Blu-Lite and saw that there were only two other cars and they were on the other side of the lot from Bosch’s room. He backed into the slot that put the passenger side of his car closest to his room’s door.
    “What’s going on here?” Banks demanded.
    Bosch didn’t answer. He got out and used his key to open his room’s door. He then went back to the car and scanned the parking lot before getting Banks out of the backseat. He walked him quickly toward the door, his arm around him as if he were supporting a drunk being taken to his room.
    Inside the room, he hit the light switch, kicked the door closed behind him, and walked Banks to the chair at the table that positioned him facing the lights.
    “You can’t do this,” he protested. “You have to book me and give me a lawyer.”
    Bosch still said nothing. He moved behind Banks, uncuffed one of his wrists, and looped the cuff and chain through the two bars that supported the back of the chair. He then put the cuff back on Banks’s wrist, securing him to the chair.
    “You are going to be so fucked,” Banks said. “I don’t care which county this is, you crossed a line, you fuck! Take the cuffs off!”
    Bosch didn’t answer. He walked into the kitchenette and filled a plastic cup with water from the sink. He then went to the table and sat down. He drank some of the water and put the cup on the table.
    “Are you fuckin’ listening to me? I know people. Powerful people in this Valley and you