The Drop

on developments as we go forward with the prosecution. Once it is revealed that this man has been charged with your daughter’s murder, you may be contacted by the news media. It is up to you whether you want to talk to them or not. Do you have any questions for me?”
    Bosch tried to imagine them in their home in Dayton. On different floors, connected by an open phone line to a man they had never met. Twenty-two years ago they had sent their daughter to Los Angeles to go to college. She never came home.
    “I have a question,” Mrs. Price said. “Hold on, please.”
    Bosch heard the phone being put down and then her weeping in the background. Her husband finally spoke.
    “Detective, thank you for not forgetting about our daughter. I’m going to hang up now so I can go downstairs and be with my wife.”
    “I understand, sir. I am sure we will be talking soon. Good-bye.”
    When Mrs. Price came back on the line, she had composed herself.
    “On the cable news they said that the police were looking at pictures and videos of the victims. They’re not going to show those on TV, are they? They’re not going to show Lily, are they?”
    Bosch closed his eyes and pressed the phone hard against his ear.
    “No, ma’am, that won’t happen. The photos are evidence and they won’t be released. There may come a time when they will be used in the trial. But if that happens, the prosecutor assigned to the case will discuss it with you. Or I will. You will be kept informed about everything involved in the prosecution. I’m sure of that.”
    “Okay, Detective. Thank you. I never thought this day would come, you know.”
    “Yes, ma’am, I know it’s been a long time.”
    “Do you have children, Detective?”
    “I have a daughter.”
    “Keep her close.”
    “Yes, ma’am. I will. I’ll get back to you soon.”
    Bosch hung up the phone.
    “How’d that go?”
    Bosch swiveled in his seat. Chu had come back into the cubicle without his noticing.
    “About how they all go,” he said. “Just two more victims . . .”
    “Yeah. Where are they?”
    “Dayton. What’s happening with the others?”
    “Everybody’s about to head out. I think they’ve seen enough for one day. It’s truly horrible stuff.”
    Bosch nodded. He checked the clock on the wall again. It had been a long day, almost twelve hours for him. Chu was talking about the other detective teams that were assigned to the investigation and had been sifting through videos of torture and murder for the past six hours.
    “I was going to head out with them, Harry, if that’s okay.”
    “Sure. I gotta go home, too.”
    “I think we’re in good shape for tomorrow, don’t you?”
    They had a 9 A.M . appointment at the District Attorney’s Office to present their case and seek murder charges against Hardy in the Lily Price case. Bosch turned sideways to his desk and put his hand on the thick pocket file that contained the reports they would give to the DA. The package.
    “Yeah,” Bosch said. “I think we’re set.”
    “Okay, then, I’m out of here. I’ll see you in the A.M . We meet here and walk over?”
    “Yeah.”
    Chu was a backpack guy. He swung his bag over his shoulder and headed out of the cubicle.
    “Hey, David,” Bosch said. “Before you go . . .”
    Chu turned back and leaned on one of the cubicle’s four-foot walls.
    “Yeah?”
    “I just wanted to say you did good today. We did good as partners.”
    Chu nodded.
    “Thanks, Harry.”
    “So never mind all that stuff from before, okay? We’ll just start from here.”
    “I told you I’d make it up.”
    “Yeah, so go home . . . and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “See ya, Harry.”
    Chu went off, a happy man. Bosch saw there had been a moment of expectancy in his face. Maybe a makeup beer or a bite of food would have solidified the partnership further, but Harry needed to get home. He needed to do exactly what Mrs. Price had told him to do.
    The new PAB cost nearly half a billion dollars and had half a million square feet of space in its ten floors of limestone and glass, but it didn’t have a snack bar, and parking was available for only a privileged few of high rank. As a detective three Bosch barely made the grade, but taking advantage of parking in the PAB’s subterranean garage was a costly perk. A fee would’ve been deducted from his paycheck each month. He opted out because he could still park for free in the old “erector set,” the rusting steel parking structure