The Overlook

back to their original positions.
    “If there was an exposure threat here, then the TLD screens on the rings would be black,” she said. “That’s the early warning. But they haven’t turned black, so we’re all safe. Additionally, I have this.”
    She pulled back her jacket to reveal a small black box clipped to her belt like a pager.
    “Radiation monitor,” she explained. “If we had a problem, believe me, this thing would be screaming bloody murder and I’d be running at the front of the pack. But we don’t. Everything is cool here, okay?”
    The people at the crime scene hesitantly started to return to their positions. Harry Bosch moved in close to Walling and took her by an elbow.
    “Can we talk over here for a minute?”
    They moved out of the clearing toward the curb at Mulholland. Bosch felt things shifting but tried not to show it. He was agitated. He didn’t want to lose control of the crime scene, and this sort of information threatened to do just that.
    “What are you doing here, Rachel?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
    “Just like you, I got a call in the middle of the night. I was told to roll out.”
    “That tells me nothing.”
    “I assure you that I am here to help.”
    “Then start by telling me exactly what you are doing here and who sent you out. That would help me a lot.”
    Walling looked around and then back at Bosch. She pointed out beyond the yellow tape.
    “Can we?”
    Bosch held out his hand, telling her to lead the way. They went under the tape and out into the street. When he judged that they were out of earshot of everyone else at the crime scene, Bosch stopped and looked at her.
    “Okay, this is far enough,” he said. “What is going on here? Who called you out here?”
    She locked eyes with him again.
    “Listen, what I tell you here has to remain confidential,” she said. “For now.”
    “Look, Rachel, I don’t have time for-”
    “ Stanley Kent is on a list. When you or one of your colleagues ran his name on the National Crime Index Computer tonight a flag went up in Washington, DC, and a call went out to me at Tactical.”
    “What, was he a terrorist?”
    “No, he was a medical physicist. And, as far as I know, a law-abiding citizen.”
    “Then what’s with the radiation rings and the FBI showing up in the middle of the night? What list was Stanley Kent on?”
    Walling ignored the question.
    “Let me ask you something, Harry. Has anyone checked on this man’s home or wife yet?”
    “Not yet. We were working the crime scene first. I plan to-”
    “Then I think we need to do that right now,” she said in an urgent tone. “You can ask your questions along the way. Get the guy’s keys in case we need to go in. And I’ll go get my car.”
    Walling started to move away but Bosch caught her by the arm.
    “I’m driving,” he said.
    He pointed toward his Mustang and left her there. He headed to the patrol car, where the evidence bags were still spread on the trunk. As he made his way he regretted having already cut Edgar loose from the scene. He signaled the watch sergeant over.
    “Listen, I have to leave the scene to check on the victim’s house. I shouldn’t be gone long and Detective Ferras should be here any minute. Just maintain the scene until one of us gets here.”
    “You got it.”
    Bosch pulled out his cell phone and called his partner.
    “Where are you?”
    “I just cleared Parker Center. I’m twenty minutes away.”
    Bosch explained that he was leaving the scene and that Ferras needed to hurry. He disconnected, grabbed the evidence bag containing the key ring off the cruiser’s trunk and shoved it into his coat pocket.
    As he got to his car he saw Walling already in the passenger seat. She was finishing a call and closing her cell phone.
    “Who was that?” Bosch asked after getting in. “The president?”
    “My partner,” she replied. “I told him to meet me at the house. Where’s your partner?”
    “He’s coming.”
    Bosch started the car. As soon as they pulled out he began asking questions.
    “If Stanley Kent wasn’t a terrorist, then what list was he on?”
    “As a medical physicist he had direct access to radioactive materials. That put him on a list.”
    Bosch thought of all the hospital name tags he had found in the dead man’s Porsche.
    “Access where? In the hospitals?”
    “Exactly. That’s where it’s kept. These are materials primarily used in the treatment of cancer.”
    Bosch nodded. He was