The Black Ice (hb-2)

wordlessly by the glass window on the seventh floor.
    Bosch was disgusted with himself. He had lost sight of the art. Solving cases was simply getting people to talk to you. Not forcing them to talk. He had forgotten that this time.
    “You can go if you want,” he said to Rickard.
    “As soon as he walks out that door and you’ve got him, I’m gone. Want nothing to do with him. But I want to see him leave with you, Bosch. In case any of this comes back on me.”
    “Yeah, that’s smart.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “But you still’ve got a lot to learn, Rickard. Everything isn’t black and white. Not everybody has to be ground into the sidewalk. You take a kid like that and-”
    “Spare me the lesson, Bosch. I might have a lot to learn but it won’t be from you. You’re a class A fuckup. Think the only thing you could teach me is how to climb down the ladder. No thanks.”
    “Sure,” Bosch said and walked to the other side of the room where there was a bench. He sat down and fifteen minutes later the boy came out. He walked between Rickard and Bosch to the elevator. Outside the Hall of Justice, Rickard headed off to his car after simply saying to Bosch, “Fuck you.”
    “Right,” Bosch said.
    He stood on the sidewalk, lit a cigarette and offered one to the boy. He declined.
    “I’m not telling you anything,” the boy said.
    “I know. That’s cool. You want me to take you anywhere? A real doctor? A lift back to Hollywood?”
    “Hollywood’s fine.”
    They walked to Bosch’s car, which was parked two blocks away at Parker Center and he took Third Street toward Hollywood. They were halfway there before either one spoke.
    “You have a place? Where do you want me to drop you?”
    “Anywhere.”
    “No place?”
    “No.”
    “Family?”
    “Nope.”
    “What will you do?”
    “Whatever.”
    Harry turned north on Western. They were silent for another fifteen minutes or so, until Bosch pulled to a stop in front of the Hideaway.
    “What’s this?”
    “Sit tight. I’ll only be a minute.”
    Inside the office, the manager tried to rent Bosch room seven but Harry flipped him his badge and told him try again. The manager, who was still wearing a dingy sleeveless T-shirt, gave him the key to room thirteen. He went back to the car and got in and gave the boy the key. He also took out his wallet.
    “You’ve got a room in there for a week,” Bosch said. “For what it’s worth, which you probably don’t think is much, my advice is that you think about things and then get as far away from this town as you can. There are better places to live than this.”
    The boy looked at the key in his hand. Bosch then handed him all the money he had, which was only $43.
    “What, you give me a room and money and you think I’m going to talk to you? I’ve seen TV, man. The whole thing was a hoax, you and that guy.”
    “Don’t misunderstand, kid. I’m doing this because it’s something that I need to do. It doesn’t mean I think what you do for a living is okay. I don’t. If I ever see you out on the street again I’m going to come down on you. It’s a pretty fucking desperate chance but it’s a chance just the same. Do with it what you want. You can go. It’s no hoax.”
    The boy opened the car door and got out. He looked back in at Bosch.
    “Then why’re you doing it?”
    “I don’t know. I guess ’cause you told him to go to hell. I should’ve said that and I didn’t. I gotta go.”
    The boy looked at him a moment before speaking.
    “You know, man, Dance’s gone. I don’t know why you’re all worried about him.”
    “Look, kid, I didn’t do-”
    “I know.”
    Harry just looked at him.
    “He left, man. Left town. He said our source split and so he went down to see if he could get the thing going again. You know, he wants to step up and be the source, now.”
    “Down?”
    “He said Mexico, but that’s all I know. He’s gone. That’s why I was doing sherms.”
    The boy closed the door and disappeared into the courtyard of the motel. Bosch sat there thinking and Rickard’s question came back to him. Where would the boy be in a year? Then he thought of himself staying in rundown motels so many years ago. Bosch had made it through. Had survived. There was always the chance. He restarted the car and pulled out.

Chapter 16
    Talking to the kid sealed it. Bosch knew he was going to Mexico. All the spokes on the wheel pointed to the hub. The hub was Mexicali. But, then, he’d known that all