The Overlook

that his partner would come to that realization and then stop asking him.
    Bosch thought of something and added an instruction, telling Ferras to swing by Parker Center on his way in and pick up the city car they were assigned. It would add minutes to his arrival time but Bosch planned to drive his own car to the scene and he knew he was low on gas.
    “Okay, see you there,” Bosch said, leaving names out.
    He hung up and grabbed his coat out of the closet by the front door. As he put his arms into it he glanced at himself in the mirror on the inside of the door. At fifty-six years old he was trim and fit and could even stand to add a few pounds, while other detectives his age were getting round in the middle. In Homicide Special, there was a pair of detectives known as Crate and Barrel because of their widening dimensions. Bosch didn’t have to worry about that.
    The gray had not yet chased all of the brown out of his hair but it was getting close to victory. His dark eyes were clear and bright and ready for the challenge awaiting him at the overlook. In his own eyes Bosch saw a basic understanding of homicide work, that when he stepped out the front door he would be willing and able to go the distance-whatever that entailed-to get the job done. It made him feel as though he were bulletproof.
    He reached across his body with his left hand to pull the gun out of the holster on his right hip. It was a Kimber Ultra Carry. He quickly checked the magazine and the action and then returned the weapon to its holster.
    He was ready. He opened the door.
    The lieutenant had not known a lot about the case but he had been right about one thing. The crime scene was not far from Bosch’s home. He dropped down to Cahuenga and then took Barham across the 101 Freeway. From there it was a quick run up Lake Hollywood Drive to a neighborhood of homes clustered on the hills surrounding the reservoir and the Mulholland Dam. They were expensive homes.
    He worked his way around the fenced reservoir, stopping only for a moment when he came upon a coyote in the road. The animal’s eyes caught the headlights and glowed brightly. It then turned and sauntered slowly across the road, disappearing into the brush. It was in no hurry to get out of the way, almost daring Bosch to do something. It reminded him of his days on patrol, when he saw the same challenge in the eyes of most of the young men he encountered on the street.
    After passing the reservoir he took Tahoe Drive farther up into the hills and then connected with the eastern terminus of Mulholland Drive. There was an unofficial overlook of the city here. It was posted with NO PARKING and OVERLOOK CLOSED AT DARK signs. But these were routinely ignored at all hours of the day and night.
    Bosch pulled in behind the grouping of official vehicles-the Forensics van and the coroner’s wagon as well as several marked and unmarked police cars. There was an outer perimeter of yellow police tape surrounding the crime scene and inside this boundary was a silver Porsche Carrera with its hood open. It had been sectioned off by more yellow tape and this told Bosch that it was most likely the victim’s car.
    Bosch parked and got out. A patrol officer assigned to the outer perimeter took down his name and badge number-2997-and allowed him under the yellow tape. He approached the crime scene. Two banks of portable lights had been erected on either side of the body, which was in the center of a clearing that looked down upon the city. As Bosch approached he saw forensics techs and coroner’s people working on and around the body. A tech with a video camera was documenting the scene as well.
    “Harry, over here.”
    Bosch turned and saw Detective Jerry Edgar leaning against the hood of an unmarked detective cruiser. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and appeared to be just waiting. He pushed himself off the car as Bosch came over.
    Edgar had been Bosch’s partner once, back when he had worked in Hollywood Division. Back then Bosch was a team leader on the homicide squad. Now Edgar was in that position.
    “Been waiting on somebody from RHD,” Edgar said. “Didn’t know it would be you, man.”
    “It’s me.”
    “You working this solo?”
    “No, my partner’s on the way.”
    “Your new partner, right? I haven’t heard from you since that mess over in Echo Park last year.”
    “Yeah. So what do you have here?”
    Bosch didn’t want to talk about Echo Park with Edgar. With anyone, as a