The Last Coyote

too long and you’ll never get out. Is that what you want, spend your career busting cops for trading hookers dime bags?”
    “Look, I want to work out of Parker and I don’t want to wait ten years like everybody else. It’s the easiest and fastest way for a white guy to get in there.”
    “It’s not worth it, is what I’m telling you. Anybody stays in IAD more than two, three years, they’re there for life because nobody else wants ’em, nobody else trusts ’em. They’re lepers. You better think about it. Parker Center isn’t the only place in the world to work.”
    A few moments of silence passed as Toliver tried to muster a defense.
    “Somebody’s got to police the police. A lot of people don’t seem to understand that.”
    “That’s right. But in this department nobody polices the police who police the police. Think about that.”
    The conversation was interrupted by the sharp tone he recognized as his mobile phone. On the back seat of the car were the items the searchers had taken from his apartment. Irving had ordered it all returned. Among them was his briefcase and inside it he heard his phone. He reached back, flipped the briefcase open and grabbed the phone.
    “Yeah. It’s Bosch.”
    “Bosch, it’s Russell.”
    “Hey, I got nothing to tell you yet, Keisha. I’m still working on it.”
    “No, I have something to tell you. Where are you?”
    “I’m in the soup. The 101 coming up to Barham, my exit.”
    “Well, I have to talk to you, Bosch. I’m writing a story for tomorrow. You will want to comment, I think, if only in your defense.”
    “My defense?”
    A dull thud went through him and he felt like saying, What now? But he held himself in check.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Did you read my story today?”
    “No, I haven’t had the time. What-”
    “It’s about the death of Harvey Pounds. Today I have a follow…It concerns you, Bosch.”
    Jesus, he thought. But he tried to keep calm. He knew that if she detected any panic in his voice she would gain confidence in whatever it was she was about to write. He had to convince her she had bad information. He had to undermine that confidence. Then he realized Toliver was sitting next to him and would hear everything he said.
    “I have a problem talking now. When is your deadline?”
    “Now. We have to talk now.”
    Bosch looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes until six.
    “You can go to six, right?”
    He’d worked with reporters before and knew that was the deadline for the Times’s first edition.
    “No, I can’t go to six. If you want to say something, say it now.”
    “I can’t. Give me fifteen minutes and then call back. I can’t talk now.”
    There was a pause and then she said, “Bosch, I can’t push it far past then. You better be able to talk then.”
    They were at the Barham exit now and they’d be up to his house in ten minutes.
    “Don’t worry about it. In the meantime, you go warn your editor that you might be pulling the story.”
    “I will not.”
    “Look, Keisha, I know what you’re going to ask me about. It’s a plant and it’s wrong. You have to trust me. I’ll explain in fifteen minutes.”
    “How do you know it’s a plant?”
    “I know. It came from Angel Brockman.”
    He flipped the phone closed and looked over at Toliver.
    “See, Toliver? Is that what you want to do with your job? With your life?”
    Toliver said nothing.
    “When you get back, you can tell your boss that he can shove tomorrow’s Times up his ass. There isn’t going to be any story. See, even the reporters don’t trust IAD guys. All I had to do was mention Brockman. She’ll start backpedaling when I tell her I know what’s going on. Nobody trusts you guys, Jerry. Get out of it.”
    “Oh, and like everybody trusts you, Bosch.”
    “Not everybody. But I can sleep at night and I’ve been on the job twenty years. Think you’ll be able to? What have you got in, five, six years? I’ll give you ten, Jerry. That’s all for you. Ten and out. But you’ll look like one of these guys who puts in thirty.”
    His prediction was met with a stony silence from Toliver. Bosch didn’t know why he even cared. Toliver was part of the team trying to put him in the dirt. But something about the young cop’s fresh face gave him the benefit of the doubt.
    They made the last curve on Woodrow Wilson and Bosch could see his house. He could also see a white car with a yellow plate parked in front of it and a man