The Concrete Blonde (hb-3)

desire to know all of him. And he knew that if he did nothing, he was risking what they had each day he kept the secrets of his life inside. Somehow, he knew facing her was facing himself. He had to accept what he was, where he had come from and what he had become if he was to be accepted by her.

    * * *

    They were in their bleached white bathrobes, she in the chair by the sliding door, he standing near the bed. Beyond her through the door, he could see the full moon casting a shifting reflection on the Pacific. He didn’t know how to start.
    She had been leafing through a hotel magazine filled with suggestions for tourists on what to do in the city. None of them were things that people who lived here ever did. She closed it and put it on the table. She looked at him and then looked away. She started before he could say a word.
    “Harry, I want you to go home.”
    He sat on the edge of the bed, put his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair. He had no idea what was going on.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Too much death.”
    “Sylvia?”
    “Harry, I’ve done so much thinking this weekend that I can’t think anymore. But I know this, we have to be apart for a while. I have to sort things out. Your life, it’s...”
    “Two days ago you said our problem was that I held things back from you. Now you’re saying you don’t want to know about me. Your-”
    “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about what you do.”
    He shook his head.
    “Same thing, Sylvia. You should know that.”
    “Look, it’s been a rough couple of days. I just need some time to decide if this is right for me. For us. Believe me, I’m thinking about you, too. I’m not sure I’m the right one for you.”
    “I am, Sylvia.”
    “Please don’t say that. Don’t make it any more difficult. I-”
    “I don’t want to go back to being without you, Sylvia. That’s all I know right now. I don’t want to be alone.”
    “Harry, I don’t want to hurt you and I would never ever ask you to change for me. I know you and I don’t think you could change even if you wanted to. So... what I have to decide is whether I can live with that and live with you... I do love you, Harry, but I need some time...”
    She was crying now. Bosch could see it in the mirror. He wanted to get up to hold her but he knew it was the wrong move. He was the cause of her tears. There was a long silence, both of them sitting in private pain. She was looking down into her lap where her hands held each other. He looked out at the ocean and saw a drift-fishing boat cut across the reflected path of the moon on its way toward the Channel Islands.
    “Say something to me,” she finally said.
    “I’ll do whatever you want,” he said. “You know that.”
    “I’ll go into the bathroom until you get dressed and leave.”
    “Sylvia, I want to know that you are safe. I would like to ask you to let me sleep in the other room. In the morning, we’ll figure something out. I’ll leave then.”
    “No. We both know nothing will happen. That man, Locke, he’s probably far away, running from you, Harry. I’ll be safe. I’ll take a taxi to school tomorrow and I’ll be safe. Just give me some time.”
    “Time to decide.”
    “Yes. To decide.”
    She got up and walked quickly by him to the bathroom. He put his arm out but she brushed by it. After the door closed he could hear her pull tissues from the dispenser. Then he could hear her crying.
    “Please leave, Harry,” she said after a while. “Please.”
    He heard her turn the water on, so she wouldn’t hear him if he said anything. Bosch felt like a fool to be sitting there in his luxury bathrobe. It ripped when he pulled it off.

    * * *

    That night he took a blanket from the trunk of the Caprice and made a bed on the sand about a hundred yards from the hotel. But he didn’t sleep. He sat with his back to the ocean and his eyes on the curtained sliding door on the fourth-floor balcony next to the atrium. Through the glass wall of the atrium he could also see her front door and would know if anyone approached. It was cold on the beach but he didn’t need the sea wind’s chill to stay awake.

Chapter 30
    Bosch was ten minutes late coming into the courtroom Monday morning. He had waited to make sure Sylvia got a cab and was safely off to school before going home and changing into the same suit he had worn Friday. But as he hurried in, he saw that Judge Keyes wasn’t on the bench and Chandler