The Last Coyote

work for the department?”
    She narrowed her eyes, not seeing where this was going.
    “A little. From time to time somebody will bring me something, or maybe ask me to do a little profiling of a suspect. But mostly the department uses outside contractors. Forensic psychiatrists who have experience with this.”
    “But you’ve been to crime scenes?”
    “Actually, no. I’ve only looked at photos brought to me and worked from them.”
    “Perfect.”
    Bosch pulled his briefcase onto his lap and opened it. He took out the envelope of crime scene and autopsy photos that had been in the murder book and gently placed them on her desk.
    “Those are from this case. I don’t want to look at them. I can’t look at them. But I need someone to do it and tell me what’s there. There’s probably nothing but I’d like another opinion. The investigation these two guys did on this case was…well, it was almost like there was no investigation.”
    “Oh, Harry.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure this is wise. Why me?”
    “Because you know what I’m doing. And because I trust you. I don’t think I can trust anybody else.”
    “Would you trust me if there was no ethical constraint on me telling others about what we’ve talked about here?”
    Bosch studied her face.
    “I don’t know,” he finally said.
    “I thought so.”
    She slid the envelope to the side of the desk.
    “Let’s put these aside for now and go on with the session. I really have to think about this.”
    “Okay, you can take them. But let me know, okay? I just want your feel for them. As a psychiatrist and as a woman.”
    “We’ll see.”
    “What do you want to talk about?”
    “What is happening with the investigation?”
    “Is that a professional question, Dr. Hinojos? Or are you just curious about the case?”
    “No, I’m curious about you. And I’m worried about you. I’m still not convinced that what you are doing is safe-either psychologically or physically. You’re mucking around in the lives of powerful people. And I’m caught in the middle. I know what you’re doing but am almost powerless to make you stop. I’m afraid you tricked me.”
    “Tricked you?”
    “You pulled me into this. I bet you’ve wanted to show me these pictures since you told me what you’re doing.”
    “You’re right, I have. But there was no trick. I thought this was a place where I could talk about anything. Isn’t that what you said?”
    “Okay, I wasn’t tricked, just led down the path. I should’ve seen it coming. Let’s move on. I want to talk more about the emotional aspect of what you are doing. I want to know more about why finding this killer is so important to you after so many years?”
    “It should be obvious.”
    “Make it more obvious for me.”
    “I can’t. I can’t put it into words. All I know is that everything changed for me after she was gone. I don’t know how things would have been if she hadn’t been taken away but…everything changed.”
    “Do you understand what you’re saying and what it means? You’re looking at your life in two parts. The first part is with her, which you seem to have imbued with a happiness I’m sure was not always there. The second part is your life after, which you acknowledge has not met expectations or is in some way unsatisfactory. I think you’ve been unhappy for a long time, possibly all of that time. This recent relationship you had may have been a highlight but you were still and, I think, have always been, an unhappy man.”
    She rested a moment but Bosch didn’t speak. He knew she wasn’t done.
    “Now, maybe the traumas of the last few years-both personally for you and for your community at large-have made you take stock of yourself. And I fear that you believe, whether subconsciously or not, that by going back and bringing some form of justice to what happened to your mother, you will be righting your life. And there’s the problem. Whatever happens with this private investigation of yours, it’s not going to change things. It just can’t be done.”
    “You’re saying that I can’t blame what happened then for what I am now?”
    “No, listen to me, Harry. All I’m saying is you are the sum of many parts, not the sum of one. It’s like dominoes. Several different blocks must click together for you to arrive at the end, at the point you are at now. You don’t jump from the first domino to the last.”
    “So I should just give it up? Just let it