"Is that what happened to you?"

"No, but you probably already know what happened to me."

She didn't respond to that, moving quickly back the other way. "In the bureau they have the whole country and then some. They don't call it freeway therapy, they call it 'hardship posting.' They send you where nobody wants to go. And there are a lot of places like that, places they can bury an agent if they want to. In Minot it was all reservation stuff and on the res they don't take so kindly to those of us of the FBI persuasion. Rapid City is only a small improvement. At least there are other agents in the office. My fellow outcasts. We actually have a good time because the pressure's off. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah. How long have you been up there?"

"Eight years altogether."

"Jeez."

She waved her free hand dismissively, as if it was all water under the bridge. She knew she was drawing him in. Revealing herself would make him trust her. She wanted his trust.

'Tell me," he said. "Was it because you were the messenger? Because you shot Backus? Or because he got away?"

"All that and other things. Consorting with the enemy, chewing gum in class, the usual stuff."

He nodded.

"Why didn't you just walk away, Rachel?"

"Well, Harry, because I didn't want them to win."

He nodded again and she could see a gleam in his eyes. She had connected on that answer. She knew it, could feel it, and it felt good.

"Can I tell you something off the record, Harry?"

"Sure."

"My assignment right now is to keep an eye on you."

"Me? Why? I don't know if you were listening in that rolling field office today but I was kind of kicked off the case."

"Yes, and I'm sure you just packed it in and are quitting."

She turned and looked toward the table, at the map book and his notebook. She then turned back to him and spoke in a stern but even tone.

"My assignment is to watch you and to shut you down hard if you come anywhere near this investigation."

"Look, Agent Walling, I don't think-"

"Don't suddenly go formal on me here."

"Okay, Rachel, then. If this is some kind of threat, then all right, message received. I get it. But I don't think you-"

"I'm not threatening you. I'm here to tell you I don't plan to carry out my assignment."

He paused and studied her for a long moment.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I've checked you out. You were right about that. I know about you and I know about what kind of cop you were. I know what has happened with you and the bureau in the past. I know all of that and I know you're more than meets the eye. And my guess is that you're onto something, that you told us just enough today to get out of that RV in one piece."

She stopped and waited and finally he responded.

"Hey, look, if all of that is a compliment, then I'll take it. But what's your point?"

"My point is that I have a history, too. And I'm not going to sit on the sideline while they go after Backus and leave me back in the FO making coffee. Not on this one. I want to get there first, and since this is a betting town I'm betting on you."

Bosch didn't move and he didn't say anything for a long moment. She watched his dark eyes as he churned through everything she'd said. She knew she was taking an incredible risk with him. But eight years in the Badlands had made her look at risks much differently than she had when she was in Quantico.

"Let me ask you something," he finally said. "Why is it they don't have you in a hotel room with two guards on the door? You know, in case Backus shows up. Like you said, this could be all about you. First Terry Mc-Caleb, then you."

She shook her head, dismissing the idea.

"Because maybe they're using me. Maybe I'm bait."

"Are they?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm not privy to everything about this investigation. Either way, it doesn't matter. If he is coming at me let him come. I'm not going to hide out in a hotel room. Not when he's out there and not as long as I have my pals Sig and Glock with me."

"Oh, a two-gun agent. That's interesting. Most of the two-gun cops I knew had a little too much testosterone to go with all the extra bullets. I didn't like working with those guys."

He said it with sort of a smile in his voice. She knew he was close to being hooked.

"I don't carry them both at once. One's on the job, one's off. And you're trying to change the subject."

"Which is?" "Your next move. Look, you know how they say it in the movies? We can do this the hard way or we can-"

"Hit you in the face with a phone book."

"Exactly. You're working alone, against the grain, but you obviously have good instincts and probably know things about this we don't know yet. Why not work together?"

"And what happens when Agent Dei and the rest of the FBI hear about this?"

"I take the risk, I take the fall. But it won't be too hard. What are they going to do to me? Send me back to Minot? Big deal."

He nodded. She watched him, tried to look through those dark eyes to see how his mind worked. Her take on Bosch was that he put case sense ahead of vanity and petty things. He would churn through it and ultimately know this was the way to go.

He finally nodded again and spoke.

"What are you doing tomorrow morning?"

"Watching you. Why?"

"Where are you staying?"

"The Embassy Suites on Paradise near Harmon."

"I'll pick you up at eight."

"And where are we going?"

"To the top of the triangle."

"What do you mean? Where?"

"I'll explain tomorrow. I'm thinking I can trust you, Rachel. But let's take it one step at a time. Are you going with me?"

"All right, Bosch, I'll go with you."

"You getting formal with me now?"

"Just a slip. I don't want to get formal with you." She smiled and she watched him try to read it.

"All right, then I'll see you tomorrow," he said. "I have to get ready now to go see my kid."

He stood up and so did she. She took one more drink from her beer and put it down half finished on the dinette table.

"Eight o'clock tomorrow," she said. "You pick me up?"

"Right."

"You sure you don't want me to drive? Uncle Sugar pay for the gas?"

"That's all right. Can you get the photos of the missing men? I had them on the newspaper clip but Agent Dei took it from me."

"I'll see what I can do. There's probably a six-pack that won't be missed at the FO."

"And one other thing. Bring both your friends."

"What friends?"

"Sig and Glock."

She smiled and shook her head at him.

"You can't carry a weapon now, can you? Legally, anyway."

"No, I can't. I don't."

"Must feel naked."

"Yeah, you could say that."

She gave him another smile.

"Well, I'm not giving you a weapon, Harry. No way."

He shrugged.

"Had to ask."

He opened the door and she walked out. After he closed it she walked down the steps to the parking lot and looked back up at the door. She wondered if he was watching her through the peephole. She got into the Crown Vic she had signed out of the car pool. She knew she was close to the edge of trouble. What she had revealed to Bosch and agreed to do the next day with him guaranteed the final stage of the destruction of her career if things went sideways. But she didn't care. It was a gambling town. She trusted Bosch and she trusted herself. She would not let them win.

As she backed the Crown Vic out she noticed a cab pull to a stop in the parking lot. A chubby man with sun-bleached hair and a loud Hawaiian shirt got out and studied the numbers on the doors of the rooms. He was carrying a thick envelope or a file folder that looked yellowed and old. Rachel watched as he bounded up the steps and walked to number 22, Bosch's door. The door was opened before he had to knock.