The Black Box

the cover of the riots to murder her.”
    Bosch got in, put the key in the ignition, and started the car, keeping his foot as light on the gas as possible. Mendenhall got in the passenger side.
    “My investigation has caused the conspiracy that binds them to unravel. Banks was a loose end, so they killed him. They mentioned that another man was coming and I think they’re going to kill him, too.”
    “Who?”
    “A guy named Frank Dowler.”
    He put the car in reverse and started backing away from the barn. He left the lights off.
    “Why didn’t they kill you?” Mendenhall asked. “Why only Banks?”
    “Because they need me alive—for the moment. Drummond has a plan.”
    “What plan? This is crazy.”
    Bosch had run everything through his data banks while waiting in the darkness with the pitchfork. He had finally come to understand J.J. Drummond’s plan.
    “T-O-D,” he said. “He needs me alive because of time of death. The plan is to lay it all on me. They’ll say I became obsessed with the case, had set out to avenge the victim. I killed Banks and then Dowler, but before I could get to Cosgrove,the sheriff got to me. Drummond plans to put me down as soon as he’s done with Dowler. I’m sure the story will cast him as the fearless lawman, going up against the mad dog cop to save one of the Valley’s best and brightest citizens—Cosgrove. After that, Drummond will ride into Congress a hero. Did I mention he’s running for Congress?”
    Bosch started down the hill to the château. The exterior lights were still off and a mist was coming in off the grove, cloaking the place in further darkness.
    “I don’t understand how Drummond is even involved in this. He’s the sheriff, for God’s sake.”
    “He’s the sheriff because Cosgrove made him the sheriff. Just like he’ll put him in Congress. Drummond knows all the secrets. He was in the two-thirty-seventh with them. He was there on the ship during Desert Storm and he was there in L.A. during the riots. He’s the one who killed Anneke Jespersen. And that’s how he kept a hold on Cosgrove all these—”
    Bosch stopped as he realized something. He slowed the car to a halt. His mind hit playback to one of the last things Drummond had said before leaving the barn. Carl Junior would’ve been disowned if the old man had learned of his involvement .
    “He’s going to kill Cosgrove, too.”
    “Why?”
    “Because Cosgrove’s old man is dead. Drummond can no longer control him.”
    As if to punctuate Bosch’s conclusion, the sound of gunfire came from the direction of the château. Bosch pinned the accelerator and they quickly came around the side of the mansion and into the turnaround.
    There was a motorcycle leaning on its stand twenty feet from the front door. Bosch recognized its metallic-blue gas tank.
    “That’s Dowler’s,” he said.
    They heard another shot from the house. And then another.
    “We’re too late.”

35
    T he front door was unlocked. Bosch and Mendenhall entered, covering the angles from both sides of the frame. They came into a circular entry room with a thick oval of glass sitting atop a three-foot-high stump of cypress. There was nothing else in the room, just the table for keys and mail and packages. From there they started down the main hallway, clearing first a dining room with a table long enough to seat twelve, and then a living room that had to have been at least two thousand square feet, with twin fireplaces at opposite ends. They moved back into the hall, which jogged around a grand staircase and into a smaller back hallway that led to the kitchen. On the floor here was the dog that had charged toward Bosch the night before. Cosmo. He had been shot behind the left ear.
    They hesitated in front of the dog, and almost immediately the kitchen lights went out. Bosch knew what was coming.
    “Get down!”
    He threw himself forward to the floor, coming up behind the dog’s body. A figure appeared in the darkness of thekitchen doorway and Bosch saw the gunpowder flashes before he heard the shots. He felt the dog’s body jerk with the impact of shots meant for him and he returned fire, putting four shots through the doorway into the dark. He heard glass shattering and wood splintering. Then he heard a door opening and the sound of footsteps running away.
    No shots followed his volley. He looked around and saw Mendenhall huddled next to a bookcase that stood against the right wall, filled with