The Closers

question the department’s actions in using Roland Mackey as bait.
    Bosch was ready to move on to the next investigation. He had already told Rider he wanted to check into the case of the lady he found tied up and drowned in her bathtub on his first day on the job. They would take it up as soon as they put the paper case on Stoddard to rest.
    Abel Pratt came out of his office and stepped into their alcove. He had an ashen look on his face. He nodded toward Rider’s computer screen.
    “Is that Stoddard you’re working on?” he asked.
    “Yes,” Rider said. “What’s up?”
    “You can spike it. He’s dead.”
    Nobody said anything for a long moment.
    “Dead?” Rider finally asked. “What do you mean, dead?”
    “Dead in his cell in Van Nuys jail. Two puncture wounds to the neck.”
    “He did it himself?” Bosch asked. “I didn’t think he had it in him.”
    “No, somebody did it for him.”
    Bosch sat up straight.
    “Wait a minute,” he said. “He was on the high-power floor and on keep-away status. Nobody could’ve -”
    “Somebody did this morning,” Pratt said. “And that’s the bad part.”
    Pratt raised a small notebook in his hand. Notes had been scribbled on it. He read from it.
    “On Monday night a man was arrested on Van Nuys Boulevard on a drunk and disorderly. He also assaulted one of the cops who hooked him up. He was routinely fingerprinted and booked into Van Nuys jail. He had no ID and gave the name Robert Light. The next day at arraignment he pleaded guilty to all charges and the judge gave him a week in Van Nuys jail. The prints had still not been run through the computer.”
    Bosch felt a deep tug in his gut. He felt dread. He knew where this was going. Pratt continued, using his notes to construct the story.
    “The man who called himself Robert Light was assigned to kitchen duty at the jail because he claimed and also demonstrated that he had restaurant experience. This morning he traded jobs with one of the others in the kitchen and was pushing the wagon that was carrying food trays to the custodies on high power. According to two guards who witnessed it, when Stoddard went to the slide window on his cell door to accept the food tray, Robert Light reached through the bars and grabbed him. He then stabbed him repeatedly with a shiv made from a sharpened spoon. He got two punctures into the neck before the guards subdued him. But the guards were too late. Stoddard’s carotid artery was slashed and he bled out in his cell before they could get help to him.”
    Pratt stopped there but Bosch and Rider asked no questions.
    “Coincidentally,” Pratt began again, “Robert Light’s fingerprints were finally entered into the database at about the same time that he was killing Stoddard. The computer kicked out a bogie-a custody who gave a false name. The real name, as I am sure you have already guessed, was Robert Verloren.”
    Bosch looked across at Rider but couldn’t hold her eyes for long. He looked down at his desk. He felt as though he had been punched. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands. He felt that it was in some way his fault. Robert Verloren had been his responsibility in the investigation. He should have found him.
    “How’s that for closure?” Pratt said.
    Bosch dropped his hands and stood up. He looked at Pratt.
    “Where is he?” he asked.
    “Verloren? They still have him there. Van Nuys homicide is handling it.”
    “I’m going up there.”
    “What are you going to do?” Rider asked.
    “I don’t know. Whatever I can.”
    He walked out of the alcove, leaving Rider and Pratt behind. Out in the hallway he punched the elevator button and waited. The heaviness in his chest wasn’t going away. He knew it was the feeling of guilt, the feeling that he had not been ready for this case and that his mistakes had been so costly.
    “It’s not your fault, Harry. He did what he had waited seventeen years to do.”
    Bosch turned. Rider had come up behind him.
    “I should have found him first.”
    “He didn’t want to be found. He had a plan.”
    The elevator door opened. It was empty.
    “Whatever you’re doing,” Rider said, “I’m going with you.”
    He nodded. Being with her would make it easier. He motioned her into the elevator and then followed. On the way down he felt a resolve rise inside him. A resolve to carry on the mission. A resolve never to forget Robert and Muriel and Rebecca Verloren along the way. And a promise always