Hanks was quiet for a couple of seconds. Bosch could hear a radio squawking in the background of the squad room.

“How you know that, the teacher?”

“The girl told her the brothers sell crack.”

“Yeah? They were walking around MLK this morning boo-hooing like they was altar boys. I’ll check it out, Bosch. Anything else I can do you for?”

“Yeah. The book. What was she reading?”

“The book?”

“Yeah.”

“It was calledThe Big Sleep. And that’s what she got, man.”

“You can do me a favor, Hanks.”

“What’s that?”

“If you talk to any reporters about this, leave the part about the book out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just leave it out.”

Bosch hung up. He sat at the desk and felt ashamed that when Sylvia had first talked of the girl, he had been suspicious of her fine school work.

After a few minutes thinking about that, he picked the phone up again and called Irving’s office. The phone was picked up on half a ring.

“Hello, this is Los Angeles Police Department Assistant Chief Irvin Irving’s office, Lieutenant Hans Rollenberger speaking, how can I help you?”

Bosch figured Hans Off must be expecting Irving himself to call in and therefore trotted out the full-count official telephone greeting that was in the officer’s manual but was roundly ignored by most of the people who answered phones in the department.

Bosch hung up without saying anything and redialed so the lieutenant could go through the whole spiel again.

“It’s Bosch. I’m just checking in.”

“Bosch, did you just call a few moments ago?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing. I’m here with Nixon and Johnson. They just came in and Sheehan and Opelt are with Mora now.”

Bosch noticed how Rollenberger didn’t dare call them the presidents when they were in the same room with him.

“Anything happen today?”

“No. The subject spent the morning at home, then a little while ago he went up to the Valley, visited a few more warehouses. Nothing suspicious.”

“Where is he now?”

“At home.”

“What about Edgar?”

“Edgar was here. He went over to Sybil to interview the survivor. He found her last night but she apparently was too dopey to talk to. He’s giving it another try, now.”

Then in a lower voice, he said, “If she confirms an ID of Mora, do we move?”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea. It’s not enough. And we’d tip our hand.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said louder now, so the presidents would know he was clearly in command here. “We stick to him like glue and we’ll be there when he makes his move.”

“Hopefully. How’re you working this with the surveillance teams? They giving you blow by blow?”

“Absolutely. They’re on rovers and I’m listening here. I know every move the subject makes. I’m staying on late tonight. I have a feeling.”

“About what?”

“I think t’night’s the night, Bosch.”

Bosch woke Sylvia at five but then sat on the bed and rubbed her back and neck for a half hour. After that, she got up and took a shower. Her eyes still looked sleepy when she came out to the living room. She wore her gray cotton T-shirt dress. Her blonde hair was tied in a tail behind her head.

“When do you have to go?”

“A little while.”

She didn’t ask where he was going or what for. He didn’t offer to tell her.

“You want me to make you some soup or something?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t think I’m going to be hungry tonight.”

The phone rang and Harry answered it in the kitchen. It was a reporter from theTimes who had gotten the number from Mrs. Fontenot. The reporter wanted to speak with Sylvia about Beatrice.

“About what?” Bosch asked.

“Well, Mrs. Fontenot said Mrs. Moore said several nice things about her daughter. We are doing a major story on this because Beatrice was such a good kid. I thought Mrs. Moore would want to say something.”

Bosch told her to hold on and went to find Sylvia. He told her about the reporter and Sylvia quickly said she wanted to talk about the girl.

She stayed on the phone fifteen minutes. While she was talking, Bosch went out to his car, turned on the rover and switched it to Symplex five, the DWP frequency. He heard nothing.

He pressed the transmit button and said, “Team One?”

A few seconds passed and he was about to try again when Sheehan’s voice came back on the rover.

“Who’s that?”

“Bosch.”

“What it be?”

“How’s our subject?”

The next voice was Rollenberger’s coming in over Sheehan.

“This is Team Leader, please use your code designations when on the air.”

Bosch smirked. The guy was an ass.

“Leader of the team, what’s my designation?”

“You are Team Six, this is Team Leader, out.”

“Rrrrrogaaahhhh that, dream leader.”

“Say again?”

“Say again?”

“Your last transmission, Team Five, what was that?”

Rollenberger’s voice had a frustrated quality to it. Bosch was smiling. He could hear a clicking sound over the radio and he knew it was Sheehan punching his transmit button, showing his approval.

“I asked who was on my team.”

“Team Six, you are solo at this time.”

“Then should I have another code, Team Leader? Perhaps, Solo Six?”

“Bo-uh, Team Six, please keep off the air unless you need or are giving information.”

“Rrrogaahhh!”

Bosch put the radio down for a moment and laughed. He had tears in his eyes and he realized he was laughing too hard at something that was mildly humorous at best. He figured it was the release of some of the tension of the day. He picked up the radio again and called Sheehan back.

“Team One, is the subject moving?”

“That’s affirmative, Solo-I mean, Team Six.”

“Where is he?”

“He is code seven at the Ling’s Wings at Hollywood and Cherokee.”

Mora was eating at a fast-food restaurant. Bosch knew that would not give him enough time to do what he planned, especially since he was a half hour’s drive from Hollywood.

“Team One, how’s he look? Is he staying out tonight?”

“Looking good. Looks like he is going cruising.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Rrrrrogah!”

He could tell Sylvia had been crying again when he came inside but her spirits seemed improved. Maybe it was past her, he thought, the initial pain and anger. She was sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of hot tea.

“Do you want a cup, Harry?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m going to have to go.”

“Okay.”

“What’d you tell her, the reporter?”

“I told her everything I could think of. I hope she does a good story.”

“They usually do.”

It appeared that Hanks hadn’t told the reporter about the book the girl had been reading. If he had, the reporter would definitely have told Sylvia to get her reaction. He realized that Sylvia’s returning strength was due to her having talked about the girl. He had always marveled about how women wanted to talk, to maybe set the record straight about someone they knew or loved who had died. It had happened to him countless times while making next-of-kin notifications. The women were hurt, yes, but they wanted to talk. Standing in Sylvia’s kitchen, he realized that the first time he had met her was on such a mission. He had told her about her husband’s death and they had stood in the same room they were in now, and she had talked. Almost from the start, Bosch had been hooked deeply in the heart by her.

“You going to be all right while I’m gone?”

“I’ll be fine, Harry. I’m feeling better.”

“I’ll try to get back as soon as I can, but I can’t be sure when that will be. Get something to eat.”

“Okay.”

At the door, they hugged and kissed and Bosch had an overwhelming urge not to go, to stay with her and hold her. He finally broke away.