The Closers

it’s Detective Bosch. How are you doing?”
    “Not too good.”
    “Yeah, things have sort of gotten out of hand, haven’t they?”
    Stoddard didn’t answer.
    “Tell you what,” Bosch said. “You really need to think about putting the gun down and coming out. You’re lucky I’m here. I just came to check on Mrs. Verloren. But my partner and the SWAT team are going to be here soon. You don’t want to tangle with SWAT. Now is the time to come out.”
    “I just want you to know I loved her, that’s all.”
    Bosch hesitated before speaking. He glanced over at Rider and then back at the door. He could go two ways with Stoddard. He could work on getting a confession right now or he could work on talking him out of the house and saving his life. Both things were possible but maybe not likely.
    “So what happened?” he asked.
    There was a long silence before Stoddard spoke.
    “What happened was she wanted to keep the baby and she didn’t understand how that would ruin everything. We had to get rid of it, and then afterward she changed her mind.”
    “About the baby?”
    “About me. About all of it.”
    Bosch didn’t respond. After a few moments Stoddard spoke again.
    “I loved her.”
    “But you killed her.”
    “I made mistakes.”
    “Like that night?”
    “I don’t want to talk about that night. I want to remember all the times before that night.”
    “I guess I don’t blame you.”
    Bosch looked at Rider and held up three fingers. They were going to go on a three count. Rider nodded. She was ready.
    Bosch dropped one finger.
    “You know what I don’t get, Mr. Stoddard?”
    He dropped the second finger.
    “What?” Stoddard asked.
    Bosch dropped the third finger, then raised his right leg and drove it into the door. It was a hollow-interior door. It gave way easily and swung open with a crash. Bosch’s momentum took him into the bedroom right behind it. He raised his gun and turned toward the bed.
    Stoddard wasn’t there.
    Bosch continued his turn, catching a glimpse of Stoddard in the mirror. He was standing in the corner to the other side of the door. He was raising the muzzle of a long-barreled revolver to his mouth.
    Bosch heard Rider shout and her body came through the door at full speed as she threw herself into Stoddard.
    The crack of a gunshot shook the room as Rider and Stoddard went down to the floor. The revolver fell from Stoddard’s hand and clattered onto the floor. Bosch moved quickly to them and dropped his weight onto Stoddard as Rider rolled off him.
    “Kiz, you hit?”
    There was no answer. Bosch tried to look at her while keeping Stoddard under control. Rider was holding one hand to the left side of her head.
    “Kiz?”
    “I’m not hit!” she yelled. “I think I’m just deaf in one ear.”
    Stoddard tried to get up, even with Bosch’s weight on top of him.
    “Please!” he said.
    Bosch used his forearm to knock one of Stoddard’s arms out from supporting him. Stoddard’s chest hit the floor and Bosch quickly pulled the arm back and cuffed it. After a minor struggle he pulled the other arm back and completed the cuffing. He then leaned down and spoke to Stoddard.
    “Please what?”
    “Please let me die.”
    Bosch got up and pulled Stoddard to his feet.
    “That would be too easy for you, Stoddard. That would be like letting you get away all over again.”
    Bosch looked over at Rider, who had gotten to her feet. He could see that some of her hair had been singed by the gun’s discharge. It had been that close.
    “You going to be okay?”
    “As soon as the ringing stops.”
    Bosch looked up and saw the bullet hole in the ceiling. He could hear sirens coming. He grabbed Stoddard by the elbow and pulled him toward the bedroom’s door.
    “I’m going to go down and put this guy in a car. We’ll book him at Devonshire, hold him there until the arraignment.”
    Rider nodded but Bosch could tell she was still dealing with what had just happened. The ringing in her ear was a reminder of how close it had been.
    Bosch held Stoddard by the arm as he walked him down the steps. When they got to the living room, Stoddard spoke with a desperation in his voice.
    “You could do it now.”
    “Do what?”
    “Shoot me. Say I ran. Take one of the cuffs off and say I got loose. You want to kill me, don’t you?”
    Bosch stopped and looked at him.
    “Yes, I’d want to kill you. But that would be too good for you. You are going to have to pay for what you did to that