But still it felt as if he were shouting his arrival to the world. He took them three at a time, as quietly as he could. The stairs up the side of the garage were old and warped. But I'm getting that reward."īosch pulled his gun as he hurried down the driveway. If you hear shots, or if I'm not back here in ten minutes, you start knocking on doors and get some cops out here. After he jumped out he stuck his head back in through the open window. He turned off the engine but left the keys in the ignition. He gunned the car up the street and found a space in front of a hydrant. Now there could be a replacement up there and I'm sitting out here watching.
She stopped to turn a trick before she called the task force number. I hadda walk down to Franklin just to find a fucking ride over to the Boulevard. "How long ago was this that you ran out of there?" Bosch's mind was racing now, his heart jacking up into its overdrive mode. He saw the figure pass behind the curtains of the other window. "Why didn't you tell me that on the phone?" He used all that stuff to paint 'em when he was done, you know, killing them." You know, mascara, lipsticks, compacts and stuff. "That's where I saw all the stuff."īosch looked away from the window and at her. "What are you going to-there he goes!" she said urgently.īosch had seen it, the shadow of a figure crossing behind the smaller window. He hadn't brought a rover with him and the car was not equipped with a phone. The one thing he knew he couldn't do was call for backup. He didn't know whether to trust her claim or not. The whore's perfume was filling the car and he rolled his window down. Bosch didn't know what he expected to see. They stared at the garage for several moments. Wooden staircase up the side, light over the door. There was a garage behind the house with an apartment above it.
Pull up so you can see down the drive."īosch tapped the gas pedal and the Caprice moved forward and crossed the entrance to the driveway.īosch stopped the car.
A man could be standing there on the porch and Bosch knew he probably wouldn't be able to see him. Instead, the house cast a foreboding darkness about it that not even the glow from the streetlight could penetrate. But no light shone behind the glass, not even from above the doorway. It was an old California Craftsman with a full front porch and two dormer windows set on the long slope of the roof. The house in Silverlake was dark, its windows as empty as a dead man's eyes.
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