BY nine o’clock the next morning the end of Wonderland Avenue was a law enforcement encampment. And at its center was Harry Bosch. He directed teams from patrol, K-9, the Scientific Investigation Division, the medical examiner’s office and the Special Services unit. A department helicopter circled above and a dozen police academy cadets milled about, waiting for orders.

Earlier, the aerial unit had locked in on the sagebrush Bosch had wrapped in yellow crime scene tape and used it as a base point to determine that Wonderland offered the closest access to the spot where Bosch had found the bones. The Special Services unit then swung into action. Following the trail of crime scene tape up the hillside, the six-man team hammered and strung together a series of wooden ramps and steps with rope guidelines that led up the hillside to the bones. Accessing and exiting the site would now be much easier than it had been for Bosch the evening before.

It was impossible to keep such a nest of police activity quiet. Also by 9 A.M. the neighborhood had become a media encampment. The media trucks were stacked behind the roadblocks set a half block from the turnaround circle. The reporters were gathering into press conference-sized groups. And no fewer than five news helicopters were circling at an altitude above the department’s chopper. It all created a background cacophony that had already resulted in numerous complaints from residents on the street to police administrators at Parker Center downtown.

Bosch was getting ready to lead the first group up to the crime scene. He first conferred with Jerry Edgar, who had been apprised of the case the night before.

“All right, we’re going to take the ME and SID up first,” he said, pronouncing the acronyms as Emmy and Sid. “Then we’ll take the cadets and the dogs up. I want you to oversee that part of it.”

“No problem. You see your pal the ME’s got her damn cameraman with her?”

“Nothing we can do about it at the moment. Let’s just hope she gets bored and goes back downtown, where she belongs.”

“You know, for all we know, these could be old Indian bones or something.”

Bosch shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Too shallow.”

Bosch walked over to the first group: Teresa Corazon, her videographer and her four-person dig team, which consisted of archeologist Kathy Kohl and three investigators who would do the spadework. The dig team members were dressed in white jumpsuits. Corazon was in an outfit similar to what she was wearing the night before, including shoes with two-inch heels. Also in the group were two criminalists from SID.

Bosch signaled the group into a tighter circle so he could speak privately to them and not be overheard by all the others milling about.

“Okay, we’re going to go up and start the documentation and recovery. Once we have all of you in place we’ll bring up the dogs and the cadets to search the adjacent areas and possibly expand the crime scene. You guys-”

He stopped to reach his hand up to Corazon’s cameraman.

“Turn that off. You can film her but not me.”

The man lowered his camera, and Bosch gave Corazon a look and then continued.

“You all know what you are doing so I don’t need to brief you. The one thing I do want to say is that it is tough going getting up there. Even with the ramps and the stairs. So be careful. Hold on to the ropes, watch your footing. We don’t want anybody hurt. If you have heavy equipment, break it up and make two or three trips. If you still need help I’ll have the cadets bring it up. Don’t worry about time. Worry about safety. All right, everybody cool?”

He got simultaneous nods from everybody. Bosch signaled Corazon away from the others and into a private conversation.

“You’re not dressed right,” he said.

“Look, don’t you start telling-”

“You want me to take my shirt off so you can see my ribs? The side of my chest looks like blueberry pie because I fell up there last night. Those shoes you’ve got on aren’t going to work. It might look good for the camera but not-”

“I’m fine. I’ll take my chances. Anything else?”

Bosch shook his head.

“I warned you,” he said. “Let’s go.”

He headed toward the ramp, and the others followed. Special Services had constructed a wooden gateway to be used as a checkpoint. A patrol officer stood there with a clipboard. He took each person’s name and affiliation before they were allowed through.

Bosch led the way. The climbing was easier than the day before but his chest burned with pain as he pulled himself along on the rope guides and negotiated the ramps and steps. He said nothing and tried not to show it.

When he got to the acacia trees he signaled the others to hold back while he went under the crime scene tape to check first. He found the area of overturned earth and the small, brown bones he had seen the night before. They appeared undisturbed.

“Okay, come on in here and have a look.”

The group members came under the tape and stood over the bones in a semicircle. The camera started rolling and Corazon now took charge.

“All right, the first thing we’re going to do is back out and take photos. Then we’re going to set up a grid and Dr. Kohl will supervise the excavation and recovery. If you find anything, photograph it nine ways from Sunday before you collect it.”

She turned to one of the investigators.

“Finch, I want you to handle the sketches. Standard grid. Document everything. Don’t assume we will be able to rely on photos.”

Finch nodded. Corazon turned to Bosch.

“Detective, I think we’ve got it. The less people in here the better.”

Bosch nodded and handed her a two-way radio.

“I’ll be around. If you need me use the rover. Cell phones don’t work up here. But be careful what you say.”

He pointed up at the sky, where the media helicopters were circling.

“Speaking of which,” Kohl said, “I think we’re going to string a tarp up off these trees so we can have some privacy as well as cut down on the sun glare. Is that okay with you?”

“It’s your crime scene now,” Bosch said. “Run with it.”

He headed back down the ramp with Edgar behind him.

“Harry, this could take days,” Edgar said.

“And maybe then some.”

“Well, they’re not going to give us days. You know that, right?”

“Right.”

“I mean, these cases… we’ll be lucky if we even come up with an ID.”

“Right.”

Bosch kept moving. When he got down to the street he saw that Lt. Billets was on the scene with her supervisor, Capt. LeValley.

“Jerry, why don’t you go get the cadets ready?” Bosch said. “Give them the crime scene one-oh-one speech. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Bosch joined Billets and LeValley and updated them on what was happening, detailing the morning’s activities right down to the neighborhood complaints about noise from the hammers, saws and helicopters.

“We’ve got to give something to the media,” LeValley said. “Media Relations wants to know if you want them to handle it from downtown or you want to take it here.”

“I don’t want to take it. What does Media Relations know about it?”

“Almost nothing. So you have to call them and they’ll work up the press release.”

“Captain, I’m kind of busy here. Can I-”

“Make the time, Detective. Keep them off our backs.”

When Bosch looked away from the captain to the reporters gathered a half block away at the roadblock, he noticed Julia Brasher showing her badge to a patrol officer and being allowed through. She was in street clothes.

“All right. I’ll make the call.”

He started down the street to Dr. Guyot’s home. He was headed toward Brasher, who smiled at him as she approached.

“I’ve got your Mag. It’s in my car down here. I have to go down to Dr. Guyot’s house anyway.”