The Black Box

like a bell.
    “Is that all, Detective? I need to go.”
    “Just a few more, Ms. Jackson. You are being very helpful. How did you know the men were from California?”
    “I don’t know. I just knew it. They must’ve told us, because I knew they were California guys. That’s what I told her when she came to see me at the base.”
    “Do you remember any names or anything like that?”
    “No, not now. It’s been forever since then. I only remember what I’m telling you because she came to see me that time.”
    “What about back then? Do you remember if you gave her any of the names of these guys?”
    There was a long pause while Jackson thought about it.
    “I can’t remember if I knew any names. I mean, I might have known their first names when we were on the boat, but I don’t know if I remembered them a year later. There were so many guys on that boat. I just remember they were from California and we were calling them the truckers.”
    “The truckers?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Why did you call them that? Did they say they drove trucks?”
    “They might have, but what I remember is that they had tattoos of the Keep on Truckin’ guy with the big shoes. You remember that comic?”
    Bosch nodded, not at her question but at the confirmation of things.
    “Yes, I do. So these guys had that tattoo? Where?”
    “On their shoulders. It was hot on that boat and we were in the pool bar so they either weren’t wearing shirts or they had their wifebeaters on. At least a couple of them had matching tattoos and so we—meaning the girls in the bar—just started calling them the truckers. It’s hard for me to remember the details and I’m already going to be late for work.”
    “You are doing good, Ms. Jackson. I can’t thank you enough.”
    “Did those guys kill her?”
    “I don’t know yet. Do you have email?”
    “Of course.”
    “Can I send you a link? It will be to a photo on a website that shows some guys on the Saudi Princess back then. Can you look at it and tell me if you recognize any of them?”
    “Can I do it when I get to work? I need to go.”
    “Yes, that will be fine. I’ll send it as soon as we hang up.”
    “Okay.”
    She gave him her email address and he wrote it down on a pad that was on the bedside table.
    “Thank you, Ms. Jackson. Let me know about the link as soon as you can.”
    Bosch disconnected. He went to the kitchenette table, fired up his laptop, and connected to the Wi-Fi signal of the house behind the motel. Using skills picked up from both his partner and daughter, he then located the link to the Saudi Princess photo on the 237th Company’s website and sent it in an email to the Charlotte Jackson he had just spoken to.
    He went to the window and checked through the curtain. It was still dark outside without even a hint of sunrise yet. Overnight the parking lot had somehow gotten almost half full. He decided to shower and get ready for the day while waiting for the response on the photo.
    Twenty minutes later he was drying off with a towel that had been washed a thousand times. He heard the email ding from his computer and went to the kitchenette to check it. Charlotte Jackson had replied.
    I think it’s them. I can’t be sure but I think so. The tattoos are right and that’s the boat. But it has been a long time and I was drinking. But, yes, I think it’s them.
    Bosch sat down at the table and reread the email. He felt a growing sense of both dread and excitement. It was not a rock-solid identification from Charlotte Jackson, but it was close. He knew that occurrences of twenty years ago or longer were now coming together at an undeniable speed. The hand of the past was reaching up through the ground, and there was no telling who or what it would grab and pull down when it finally broke through the surface of the earth.

29
    B osch spent the morning in his room, leaving only briefly to walk across the parking lot to the liquor store to buy a carton of milk and some doughnuts for breakfast. He left the “Do Not Disturb” sign hooked on the knob and chose to make the bed and hang the towels himself. He called his daughter before she left for school and talked to Hannah as well. Both conversations were quick and of the have-a-great-day variety. He then got down to work, spending the next two hours on his laptop, updating in full detail the ongoing summary of the investigation. Once finished, he returned the computer and all the documents he’d used to his