The Closers

me at the last second. It makes me think that he only wants to hurt one person.”
    “Himself? Maybe he just didn’t want to dent his new car.”
    “Maybe.”
    Rider turned onto Winnetka, a four-lane street, and started moving faster. They were almost to Stoddard’s home. Bosch rode silently, thinking about what might be waiting for them ahead. Rider finally turned west on Chase and there was a black-and-white patrol car with both of its front doors open in the street up ahead. Rider pulled to a quick stop behind it and they jumped out of the car. Bosch took his gun off his belt and carried it at his side. Rider had a point about Stoddard maybe only thinking about his car when he avoided hitting Bosch.
    The front door of the small World War II-era house was open. There was no sign of the patrol officers from the car. Bosch looked at Rider and saw that she was unholstered as well. They were ready to go in. At the door, Bosch shouted, “Detectives coming in!”
    He stepped into the threshold and got a response from inside.
    “It’s clear! It’s clear!”
    Bosch didn’t relax or lower his weapon as he entered the living room. He scanned the room and didn’t see anyone. He looked down at the coffee table and saw the
Daily News
from the previous day unfolded, the story on Rebecca Verloren on display.
    “Patrol coming out!” a voice called from a hallway to the right.
    Soon two patrol officers stepped out of the hallway into the living room. They carried their weapons at their sides. Now Bosch relaxed and lowered his own.
    “All clear,” said the patrolman with the P2 stripes on his uniform. “We found the door open and came in. There’s something you ought to see back here in the bedroom.”
    The patrolmen led the way and Bosch and Rider followed. They went down a short hallway that passed the open doors to a bathroom and a small bedroom that was used as a home office. They entered a bedroom and the P2 pointed to an oblong wooden box that was open on the bed. The box had a foam lining with a cutout in the shape of a long-barreled revolver. The cutout was empty and the gun was gone. There was a small rectangular cutout in the foam for a box of bullets. It was empty, too, but the box was nearby on the bed.
    “Is there someone he’s going after?” the P2 asked.
    Bosch didn’t look up from the gun box.
    “Probably just himself,” he said. “Either of you guys have gloves? Mine are in the car.”
    “Right here,” the P2 said.
    He pulled a pair of latex gloves out of a small compartment on his equipment belt. He handed them to Bosch, who snapped them on and then picked up the bullet box. Bosch opened it and slid out a plastic tray in which the bullets were stored. There was only one bullet missing.
    Bosch was staring at the space left by the missing bullet and thinking about things when Rider tapped him on the elbow. He looked at her and then followed her gaze to the table on the other side of the bed.
    There was a framed photo of Rebecca Verloren. It was a shot of her standing in a green field with the Eiffel Tower behind her. She was wearing a black beret and she was smiling in an unforced way. Bosch thought the look in her eyes was sincere and showed love for the person she was looking at.
    “He wasn’t in any of the pictures in the yearbook because he was the one behind the camera,” Bosch said.
    Rider nodded. She, too, was in the water tunnel.
    “That’s where it started,” she said. “That’s where she fell in love with him. My true love.”
    They stared in somber silence for a few moments until the P2 spoke.
    “Detectives, can we clear?”
    “No,” Bosch said. “We need you to stay here and secure the house until SID gets here. And be ready in case he comes back.”
    “You’re leaving?” the P2 asked.
    “We’re leaving.”

40
    THEY MOVED QUICKLY back to Bosch’s car and Rider once again got behind the wheel.
    “Where to?” she said as she turned the ignition.
    “The Verloren house,” Bosch said. “And let’s hurry.”
    “What are you thinking?”
    “I’ve been thinking about the picture they ran in the paper, with Muriel sitting on the bed. It showed how the room was still the same, you know?”
    Rider thought for a moment and then nodded.
    “Yeah.”
    Rider understood. The photo showed that Rebecca’s room was unchanged since the night she was taken. Seeing it might trigger something in Stoddard. A desire for something lost long ago. The photo was like an oasis, it