"And how did he do?"

"He did good. We're working this one case now that's interesting. When the new chief put the squad together we started going back through the open-unsolveds. We linked six cases-body dumps up in the Valley. They had some similar aspects but were never connected before. We copied the files to Terry and he confirmed. He connected them through what he called 'psychological commonalities.' We're still working it but at least we know what we have now. We're on the track is what I mean. I'm not sure we would be where we are if Terry hadn't helped us out."

"Good, I'm glad to hear he helped with it. I'll tell his wife and I'm sure it will help her to know that."

"Good. So, Harry, you coming back in?"

I was expecting him to ask what I was really doing with McCaleb's files, not whether I was coming back to the department.

"What are you talking about?"

"You heard about the three-year ticket the chief instituted?"

"No, what's that?"

"He knows we lost a lot of talent in recent years. All the scandals and whatnot, good people saying, what the hell, I'm out of here. So he's opening the door for people to come back. If you reapply within three years of retirement and are accepted you can get back in without having to go to the academy. That's perfect for old guys like you."

I heard the smile in his voice.

'Three years, huh?"

"Yeah. What's it been for you, two and a half?"

"Just about."

"Well, there you go. Think about it. We could use you here in cold cases. We've got seven thousand open-unsolveds. Take your pick, man."

I didn't say anything. Out of the blue, I was struck with the idea of going back. In that moment I was blind to the negatives. I only thought about what it would be like to carry the badge again.

"Then again, maybe you're having too much fun being retired. You need anything else, Harry?"

"Uh, no, that was it. Thanks, man, I appreciate it."

"Anytime. And think about the three-year plan. We could sure use you, whether it's here or back in Hollywood or wherever."

"Yeah, thanks. Maybe I will. I'm going to think about it."

I closed the phone and sat there surrounded by another man's obsessions but thinking about my own. I thought about going back. I thought about seven thousand unanswered voices from the grave. That was more than the number of stars you see when you look up into the sky at night.

My phone buzzed while it was still in my hand. It pulled me out of the reverie and I opened it, expecting it to be Tim Marcia calling back and saying that three-year thing had just been a gag. But it was Graciela calling. "I can see lights on in the boat," she said. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Why so late, Harry? You missed the last ferry." "I wasn't going to go back tonight. I was going to stay over and finish up here. Maybe head back tomorrow. I might want to come up and talk to you, too."

"That's fine. I'm not working tomorrow. I'll be here packing." "Packing?"

"We're going to move back to the mainland. We'll live in Northridge. I got my old job back in the ER at Holy Cross."

"Is Raymond one of the reasons you're moving back?" "Raymond? What do you mean?" "I was wondering if there were any troubles with the boy. I heard he didn't like living on the island."

"Raymond doesn't have a lot of friends. He doesn't fit in so well. But the move is not just because of Raymond. I want to go back. I wanted to before Terry was gone. I told you that." "Yes, I know," She changed the subject.

"Is there anything you need? Did you get something to eat?"

"I found some stuff in the boat's kitchen. I'm fine." She groaned in disgust.

"That all must be old. Check the expiration dates before you eat anything else." "I will."

She hesitated and then asked the question she had called to ask. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Well, I've found some things I am curious about. But nothing that particularly stands out yet."

I thought about the man in the Dodgers cap. He certainly stood out for me but I didn't want to bring him up yet with Graciela. I wanted to know more before talking to her about him.

"Okay," she said. "But keep me informed about things, okay?"

"That's the deal."

"Okay, Harry, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Are you staying in a hotel or on the boat?"

"The boat, I think. If that's all right with you."

"It's fine with me. Do what you want to."

"Okay. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what?"

"You were talking about packing and I'm just curious about something. How often do you go over to the mainland? You know, to go to the mall or restaurants or see family."

"Usually about once a month. Unless something specific comes up and I need to go."

"You take the kids?"

"Usually. I want them to be used to it. You grow up on an island where they have golf carts instead of cars and everybody knows everybody… it can be strange to suddenly move to the mainland. I'm trying to get them ready for it"

"I guess that's smart. What mall is closest to the ferry docks?"

"I don't know what one is closest, but I always go up to the Promenade on Pico. I just shoot up the four-oh- five from the harbor. I know there are closer malls-Fox Hills, for example-but I like the Promenade. I like the stores there and it's easy. Sometimes I meet friends from the Valley and it is a good halfway point for all of us."

And easy to be followed to, I thought but didn't say.

"Good," I said, not sure what I was saying was good. "One other thing. I'm running out of light here. The batteries, I guess. Is there a switch or something I should hit to recharge or how do you do that?"

"You didn't ask Buddy?"

"No, I didn't know I was going to run out of light when I was with Buddy."

"Oh, Harry, I'm not sure. There's a generator that has to run. I'm not sure even where it is."

"Okay, well, don't worry about it. I can call Buddy. I'll let you go, Graciela. I ought to get back to work while I still have some light."

I hung up and wrote the name of the mall down in my notebook, then left the room and went around the boat turning off all the lights but the one on the desk in the forward berth in an effort to conserve power. I called Buddy on the cell after that and he answered in a groggy voice.

"Hey, Buddy, wake up. It's Harry Bosch."

"Who? Oh. What do you want?"

"I need your help. Is there like a generator or something on this boat that will give me some light? The batteries are dying on me."

"Man, don't let those things drain all the way down. You'll kill them."

"Then what do I do?"

"You've got to crank the Volvos, man, and then turn on the generator. The thing is it's near midnight. Those folks sleeping on their boats in line with you aren't going to take so kindly to hearing that"

"All right, forget it. But in the morning I should do it, so what do I do, use a key?"

"Yeah, just like a car. Go to the helm in the salon, put in the keys and turn them to the on position. Then above each key is the ignition toggle. Flip it up and she should start right up-unless you've used all the juice up and there's no charge."

"Okay, I'll do it. You got any flashlights on this thing?"

"Yeah, there's one in the galley, one over the chart table and one in the master in the built-in drawer to the left of the bed. There's also a lantern in the lower cabinet of the galley. But you don't want to use that down in the front room. The kerosene smell will build up in there and you might croak yourself. Then there'd be another mystery to solve."

He said the last line with a note of contempt in his voice. I let it go.

"Thanks, Buddy. I'll talk to you."

"Yeah. Good night."

I hung up and went looking for the flashlights, coming back to the forward berth with a small one from the master stateroom and a large table light from the galley. I put the large light on the desk and turned it on. I then killed the berth's lights. The table light's glow hit the small room's low ceiling and spread. It wasn't bad. Between that and the handheld light I would still be able to get some work done.