The Closers

and McKenzie Ward stood off to the side and talked casually. Earlier, they had spoken at length on the phone. She had agreed to the deal. If she got the story into the paper the following day, she would be first in line for the exclusive when they took down the killer. She had not agreed easily. Garcia had initially been clumsy in his approach to her before turning the negotiation over to Bosch. Bosch was wise enough to know that no reporter would allow the police department to dictate when a story would be published and how it would be written. So Bosch concentrated on the when, not the how. He went with the assumption that McKenzie Ward would and could write a story that would serve his purposes. He just needed it in the paper sooner rather than later. Kiz Rider had an appointment with a judge that afternoon. If the wiretap application was approved, they would be in business by the next morning.
    “Did you talk to Muriel Verloren?” the reporter asked Bosch.
    “Yeah, she’s there all afternoon and she’s ready to talk.”
    “I pulled the clips and read everything from back then-like I was eight years old at the time-and there were several mentions of the father and his restaurant. Will he be there, too?”
    “I don’t think so. He’s gone. It’s more of a mother’s story, anyway. She’s the one who has kept her daughter’s bedroom untouched for seventeen years. She said you could photograph in there, too, if you want.”
    “Really?”
    “Really.”
    Bosch watched her looking at the shot being set up with Garcia. He knew what she was thinking. The mother in the bedroom frozen in time would be a lot better shot than an old cop at a table with a binder. She looked at Bosch while she started digging in her purse.
    “Then I have to make a call to see if I can keep Emmy.”
    “Go ahead.”
    She left the office, probably because she didn’t want Garcia to overhear her telling an editor that she needed Emmy to stay on the assignment because she had a better shot with the mother.
    She was back in three minutes and nodded to Bosch, which he took to mean that Emmy was going to stay with her on the story.
    “So this thing is a go for tomorrow?” he asked, just to make sure once again.
    “It’s slotted for the window-depending on the art. My editor wanted to hold it for Sunday, make a nice long feature, but I told him we were competitive on it. Anytime we can beat the
Times
on a story we do.”
    “Yeah, but what will he say when the
Times
doesn’t run anything? He’ll know you tricked him.”
    “No, he’ll think that the
Times
killed their story because we beat them to the punch. Happens all the time.”
    Bosch nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “What did you mean about it being slotted for the window?”
    “We run a news feature every day with a photo on the front page. We call it the window because it’s in the center of the page. Also because you can see the art in the window of the newspaper boxes on the street. It’s a prime spot.”
    “Good.”
    Bosch was excited by the play the story was going to get.
    “If you guys screw me on this, I won’t forget it,” McKenzie said quietly.
    There was a threat in her tone, the tough reporter coming to the surface. Bosch held his hands wide, as if he had nothing to hide.
    “That’s not going to happen. You’ve got the exclusive. As soon as we wrap somebody up, I’m calling you and you only.”
    “Thank you. Now, just to go over the rules again, I can quote you by name in the story but you don’t want to be in any photos, right?”
    “Right. I may have to do some undercover work on this. I don’t want my face in the paper.”
    “Got it. What undercover?”
    “You never know. I just want to keep the option open. Besides, the commander is better for the photo. He’s lived with the case longer than I have.”
    “Well, I think I already have most of what I need from the clips and our call earlier but I still want to sit down with you two for a few minutes.”
    “Whatever you need.”
    “Done,” Emmy said, a few minutes later. She started breaking down her equipment.
    “Call the photo desk,” her sister said. “I think there’s been a change and you are staying with me.”
    “Oh,” Emmy said, not seeming to mind.
    “Why don’t you make the call outside while we get going with the interview?” McKenzie said. “I want to get back to writing this as soon as we can.”
    The reporter and Bosch took seats at the table with Garcia while