The Drop

was on the line, he’d get some sympathy time. Nobody wants to cause somebody to lose their job. Not even a cold and calculating reporter.
    “This sounds like a stall to me, Detective Bosch. With you or without you, I have the story and I am filing it today.”
    “Okay, then how long can you give me? I’ll get back to you.”
    There was a pause and Bosch thought he could hear her typing on a computer keyboard.
    “My deadline is five. I need to hear from you before then.”
    Bosch checked his watch. He had just gotten three hours from her. He believed that would give him enough time to take down McQuillen. Once he was in custody it didn’t matter what was on the Internet or how many reporters and producers called him or the media relations office.
    “Give me your direct number,” he said. “I’ll get back to you before five.”
    Bosch had no intention of calling her back but he wrote her name and number down in his notebook anyway.
    As soon as he hung up he called Kiz Rider on his cell. She answered right away but sounded like she was in a car.
    “Yes, Harry?”
    “Are you alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “The Times has the story. It came from either the chief or the councilman. Either way, I’m fucked if it gets out too soon.”
    “Hold on, hold on. How do you know?”
    “Because the reporter just called me and she knew we’re working it as a murder and that we have a suspect who’s an ex-cop. She’s been told everything.”
    “Who’s the reporter?”
    “Emily Gomez-Gonzmart. I’ve never talked to her before but I’ve heard of her. Supposedly they call her GoGo because she doesn’t give up on a story.”
    “Well, she isn’t one of ours.”
    Meaning GoGo wasn’t on the list of approved and trusted reporters the chief of police dealt with. This meant her source was Irvin Irving or someone on the city councilman’s staff.
    “But you’re saying that she knew you had a suspect?” Rider said.
    “That’s right. She knows everything but the name. She knew it was either about to go down or it already did.”
    “Well, you know reporters often act like they know more than they do as a way of tricking you into confirming things.”
    “She knew we had a suspect and he’s an ex-cop, Kiz. That wasn’t a bluff. I’m telling you, she knows it all. You people up there better get on the phone and jump on Irving’s shit for this. It’s his own son and he’s damaging the case for what? Is there a political advantage to putting this out now?”
    “No, there isn’t. That’s why I’m not convinced it went through him. And the thing is, I was in the room when the chief got him on the phone and updated him. He held back on the suspect because he knew Irving would demand to know the name. So he left that out. He did tell him about the marks on the shoulder and the choke hold connection but he did not say that there was a named suspect. He said we were still working it.”
    Bosch was quiet as he contemplated the meaning of all of this. It fell under the heading of high jingo and he knew there was no one to trust other than Kiz Rider.
    “Harry, I’m in the car. What I suggest you do is go online and get into the Times website. Put in a search with the reporter’s name. See what comes up in previous stories. See if she has done stories involving Irving before. Maybe there’s a staffer she’s connected to and it’s obvious from previous stories.”
    It was a good and savvy idea.
    “Okay, I’ll do it but I don’t have a lot of time. This is forcing the issue with McQuillen. As soon as my partner gets in, we’re going to go grab him.”
    “You sure you’re ready?”
    “I don’t think we have a choice. This story hits the Internet at five o’clock. We need to grab him before that.”
    “Let me know the moment it goes down.”
    “You got it.”
    Bosch disconnected and immediately called Chu, who should have already cleared the Chateau Marmont.
    “Where are you?”
    “Heading in. We got nothing, Harry.”
    “Doesn’t matter. We grab McQuillen today.”
    “Your call.”
    “Yeah, my call and I’m making it. See you back here.”
    He disconnected and put his phone down on the desk. He drummed his fingers. He didn’t like this. His case actions were being dictated by outside influences. It never felt good. Sure, the plan was to get McQuillen and bring him in for questioning. But before, Bosch was setting the pace. Now it was being set for him and it made him feel like a tiger in a cage. Confined