The Drop

McQuillen.”
    Rider stood up. She was impatient to go.
    “Are you going back now?” she asked. “You want to walk?”
    “No, you go ahead,” Bosch said. “I think I’m going to make a few phone calls.”
    “All right, Harry. Good luck. Be careful out there.”
    “Yeah, you, too. Be careful up there.”
    She looked at him. She knew he meant on the tenth floor of the PAB. She smiled and he smiled back.

20

    B osch sat back down on the bench and composed himself. He then pulled his phone and called Hannah Stone’s cell number. She had given it to him when they parted ways Monday evening.
    She answered right away, even though Bosch’s number was blocked.
    “It’s Harry Bosch.”
    “I thought it might be you. Is there anything new?”
    “No, I’m working on something else today. But my partner is trying to run down the guy Chill.”
    “Okay.”
    “Anything new on your end?”
    “No, just doing the same good work we always do.”
    “That’s good.”
    There was an awkward pause and then Bosch plowed ahead.
    “My daughter is studying at a friend’s house tonight, so I’m free. And I was wondering—I mean, I know it’s pretty soon—but I wanted to see if you wanted to have dinner again tonight.”
    “Uh . . .”
    “It’s no big deal. It’s short notice. I’ll—”
    “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that we have sessions on Wednesday and Thursday nights and I’m supposed to work tonight.”
    “Don’t you get a dinner break?”
    “Yes, but it’s too short. Tell you what, can I call you back?”
    “Yes, but you don’t have to jump through any—”
    “I want to, but I have to see if somebody will switch with me. I take tomorrow night if they take tonight. Can I call you back?”
    “Sure.”
    Bosch gave her his number and they disconnected. He got up, patted Charlie Chaplin on the shoulder and headed out the door.
    When Bosch got back to the unit, Chu was working on his laptop and didn’t look up as Harry entered the cubicle.
    “You find my guy yet?”
    “Not yet.”
    “How’s it looking?”
    “Not very good. There are nine hundred eleven variations of Chill in the moniker files. And that’s just in California. So don’t hold your breath.”
    “Is that total or is that just in the time frame I asked for?”
    “The time frame doesn’t matter. Your guy from ’eighty-eight could easily have been put into the database in any year before or since. It would depend on whether he was arrested, was the subject of a field interview, or was a victim. There are a lot of possibilities. I have to look at all of them.”
    Chu was speaking in a clipped tone. Bosch knew he was still angry about being shut out of the Irving investigation.
    “All of that might be true but let’s prioritize by narrowing the focus to . . . let’s say pre-’ninety-two. My hunch is that if he’s in the box, he went in before then.”
    “Fine.”
    Chu started typing. He still had not looked up or acknowledged Bosch with his eyes.
    “When I came in, I saw that the lieutenant’s alone in her office. You could go talk to her about the transfer.”
    “I want to get this done.”
    Bosch was calling Chu’s bluff and they both knew it.
    “Good.”
    Bosch’s cell buzzed and he saw it was an 818 call—the Valley. As he answered, he left the cubicle and headed out to the hallway so he could talk privately. It was Hannah Stone calling from one of her work lines.
    “I won’t be able to meet you till about eight because of some things here at work. Will that be all right?”
    “Sure, that works.”
    It would only give him about ninety minutes with her, unless he changed his daughter’s curfew.
    “Are you sure? You sound—”
    “No, it will work. I could work late, too. I’ve got stuff here. Where do you want to meet?”
    “How about somewhere in the middle this time? Do you like sushi?”
    “Uh, not really. But I guess I could try it.”
    “You mean you’ve never even tried sushi?”
    “Uh . . . I sort of have a problem with raw fish.”
    He didn’t want to mention that it related to his experience in Vietnam. The rancid fish they would come across in the tunnels. The overpowering smell.
    “Okay, then scratch sushi. How about Italian?”
    “Italian’s good. Let’s do Italian.”
    “You know where Ca’ Del Sole is in North Hollywood?”
    “I can find it.”
    “Eight o’clock?”
    “I’ll be there.”
    “See you soon, Harry.”
    “See you soon.”
    Bosch ended the call and then made