The Last Coyote

really touched on in his private thoughts about the breakup.
    “If you mean in a physical way, no, she wasn’t scared and I gave her no reason to be.”
    Hinojos nodded and wrote something on her pad. It bothered Bosch that she would make a note about this.
    “Look, it’s got nothing to do with what happened at the station last week.”
    “Why did she leave? What was the real reason?”
    He looked away. He was angry. This was how it was going to be. She would ask whatever she wanted. Invade him wherever there was an opening.
    “I don’t know.”
    “That answer is not acceptable in here. I think you do know, or at least have your own beliefs as to why she would leave. You must.”
    “She found out who I was.”
    “She found out who you were, what does that mean?”
    “You’d have to ask her. She said it. But she’s in Venice. The one in Italy.”
    “Well, then what do you think she meant by it?”
    “It doesn’t matter what I think. She’s the one who said it and she’s the one who left.”
    “Don’t fight me, Detective Bosch. Please. There is nothing I want more than for you to get back to your job. As I said, that’s my mission. To get you back there if you can go. But you make it difficult by being difficult.”
    “Maybe that’s what she found out. Maybe that’s who I am.”
    “I doubt the reason is as simplistic as that.”
    “Sometimes I don’t.”
    She looked at her watch and leaned forward, dissatisfaction with the session showing on her face.
    “Okay, Detective, I understand how uncomfortable you are. We’re going to move on, but I suspect we will have to come back to this issue. I want you to give it some thought. Try to put your feelings into words.”
    She waited for him to say something but he didn’t.
    “Let’s try talking about what happened last week again. I understand it stemmed from a case involving the murder of a prostitute.”
    “Yes.”
    “It was brutal?”
    “That’s just a word. Means different things to different people.”
    “True, but taking its meaning to you, was it a brutal homicide?”
    “Yes, it was brutal. I think almost all of them are. Somebody dies, it’s brutal. For them.”
    “And you took the suspect into custody?”
    “Yes, my partner and I. I mean, no. He came in voluntarily to answer questions.”
    “Did this case affect you more than, say, other cases have in the past?”
    “Maybe, I don’t know.”
    “Why would that be?”
    “You mean why did I care about a prostitute? I didn’t. Not more than any other victim. But in homicide there is one rule that I have when it comes to the cases I get.”
    “What is that rule?”
    “Everybody counts or nobody counts.”
    “Explain it.”
    “Just what I said. Everybody counts or nobody counts. That’s it. It means I bust my ass to make a case whether it’s a prostitute or the mayor’s wife. That’s my rule.”
    “I understand. Now, let’s go to this specific case. I’m interested in hearing your description of what happened after the arrest and the reasons you may have for your violent actions at the Hollywood Division.”
    “Is this being taped?”
    “No, Detective, whatever you tell me is protected. At the end of these sessions I will simply make a recommendation to Assistant Chief Irving. The details of the sessions will never be divulged. The recommendations I make are usually less than half a page and contain no details from the dialogues.”
    “You wield a lot of power with that half page.”
    She didn’t respond. Bosch thought for a moment while looking at her. He thought he might be able to trust her but his natural instinct and experience was that he should trust no one. She seemed to know his dilemma and waited him out.
    “You want to hear my side of it?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened.”

Chapter Two
    BOSCH SMOKED ALONG the way home but realized that what he really wanted was not a cigarette, but a drink to deaden his nerves. He looked at his watch and decided it was too early to stop at a bar. He settled for another cigarette and home.
    After negotiating the drive up Woodrow Wilson, he parked at the curb a half block from the house and walked back. He could hear gentle piano music, something classical, coming from the home of one of his neighbors but he couldn’t tell which house. He didn’t really know any of his neighbors or which one might have a piano player in the family. He ducked under the yellow tape strung in front of the