“No, no he didn’t. His, uh, his parents thought it best for him if he stayed there in the islands. The trauma, you know? Mr. Kotchof called and said he wouldn’t be coming.”

Bosch nodded. He turned from the mirror, sliding the photo into his pocket. Muriel didn’t notice.

“What about after?” he asked. “After the letter, I mean. Did he ever contact you? Maybe call and talk to you?”

“No, I don’t think we ever heard from him. Not since the letter.”

“Do you still have that letter?” Rider asked.

“Of course. I kept everything. I have a drawer full of letters we got about Rebecca. She was a well-loved girl.”

“We need to borrow that letter from you, Mrs. Verloren,” Bosch said. “We also might need to look through the whole drawer at some point.”

“Why?”

“Because you never know,” Bosch said.

“Because we want to leave no stone unturned,” Rider added. “We know this is disruptive but please remember what we are doing. We want to find the person who did this to your daughter. It has been a long time but that doesn’t mean anybody should get away with it.”

Muriel Verloren nodded. She had absentmindedly picked up a small decorative pillow off the bed and was clutching it with both hands in front of her chest. It looked like it might have been made by her daughter many years ago. It was a small blue square with a red felt heart sewn across its middle. Holding it made Muriel Verloren look like a target.

WHILE BOSCH DROVE, Rider read the letter Danny Kotchof had sent to the Verlorens after Becky’s murder. It was a single page, filled mostly with his fond memories of their lost daughter.

“‘All I can tell you is that I am so sorry this had to happen. I will miss her always. Love, Danny.’ And that’s it.”

“What’s the postmark on it?”

She flipped over the envelope and looked at it.

“ Maui, July twenty-ninth, nineteen eighty-eight.”

“Sure took his time writing it.”

“Maybe it was hard for him. Why are you keying on him, Harry?”

“I’m not. It’s just that Garcia and Green relied on a phone call to clear him. You remember what it said in the book? It said the kid’s supervisor said he was washing cars at the rent-a-car agency the day of and the day after. No time to fly to L.A., kill Becky, and get back home in time for work.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, now we find out from Muriel that his old man ran a rent-a-car. There was nothing about that in the murder book. Did Garcia and Green know that? How much you want to bet that dad was running the place where the son washed cars? How much you want to bet that the supervisor who alibied the son was working for the father?”

“Man, I was kidding about going to Paris. Sounds like you’re jonesing for a trip to Maui.”

“I just don’t like sloppy work. It leaves loose ends. We have to talk to Danny Kotchof and clear him ourselves. If that’s even possible after so many years.”

“AutoTrack, baby.”

“That might find him for us. It won’t clear him.”

“Even if we knock down his alibi, what are you saying, that this sixteen-year-old kid snuck over here from Hawaii, knocked off his old girlfriend and then went back without anybody seeing him?”

“Maybe it wasn’t planned like that. And he was seventeen-Muriel said he was a year older.”

“Oh, seventeen,” she said sarcastically, as if that made all the difference in the world.

“When I was eighteen I got a leave from Vietnam to Hawaii. You were not allowed to go stateside from there. Once I got there I changed clothes, bought a civilian-looking suitcase and walked right by the MPs to get on a plane to L.A. I think a seventeen-year-old could have done it.”

“Okay, Harry.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that it was sloppy work. According to the murder book, Green and Garcia cleared this guy with a phone call. There’s nothing in there about checking airlines and now it’s too late. It bugs me.”

“I understand. But just remember. We have a logic triangle we have to complete. We can connect Danny to Becky easy enough, and the gun connects Becky to Mackey. But what connects Danny to Mackey?”

Bosch nodded. It was a good point. But it didn’t make him feel any better about Danny Kotchof.

“Another thing is what he wrote in that letter,” he said. “He said he was sorry that it had to happen. Had to happen-what does that mean?”

“It’s just a figure of speech, Harry. You can’t build a case on it.”

“I’m not talking about building a case on it. I just wonder why he chose to say it that way.”

“If he’s still alive, we’ll find him and you’ll get to ask him.”

They had crossed under the 405 and were in Panorama City. Bosch dropped the discussion of Danny Kotchof and Rider brought up Muriel Verloren.

“She’s frozen solid,” Rider said.

“Yeah.”

“It’s pitiful. There was no reason for them to take the daughter up the hill. They might as well have killed everybody in the house. They did anyway.”

Bosch thought that was a harsh way of looking at it but didn’t say anything.

“Them?” he asked instead.

“What?”

“You said there was no reason for them to take the daughter up the hill. You sound like Bailey Sable.”

“I don’t know. Looking at that hill. It would have been tough for one person. It’s steep back there.”

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. Two people.”

“Your idea about spooking Mackey is getting better. If he was there, he could lead us to the other-whether it’s Kotchof or somebody else.”

Bosch turned south on Van Nuys Boulevard and stopped in front of an aging apartment complex that covered half the block. It was called the Panorama View Suites. There was a sign that said RENTAL OFFICE to the left of the glass doors of the lobby. It also announced that units were available on a monthly and weekly basis. Bosch put the transmission into park.

“Besides Kotchof, what else were you thinking, Harry?”

“I was thinking that I want to track down and talk to the other two friends. Maybe you can take the lesbian. But the father is my priority-if we can find him.”

“Okay, you take the father and I’ll take the lesbian. Maybe I’ll get to go up to San Francisco.”

“It’s Hayward. And if you need help I know an inspector up there who will track her down and save L.A. the cost of the trip.”

“You are really no fun, Harry. I’d like to hang out with the northern sisters.”

“Did the chief know about you?”

“Not at first. When he found out he didn’t care.”

Bosch nodded. He liked the chief for that.

“What else?” Rider asked.

“Sam Weiss.”

“Who is that?”

“The burglary victim. The one whose gun was used to kill the girl.”

“Why him?”

“They didn’t have Roland Mackey back then. Might be worth running the name by him.”

“Check.”

“After that I think we’ll be ready to make the play with Mackey, see how he reacts.”

“Then let’s get this over with and then go talk to Pratt.”

They cracked the doors at the same time and got out. As Bosch came around the SUV he could feel her looking at him, studying him.

“What?” he asked.

“There’s something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“With you. When you get that little crease on your left eyebrow I know something’s going on.”

“My ex-wife always told me I’d make a bad poker player. Too many tells.”

“Well, what is it?”

“I don’t know yet. Something about that room.”

“Back at the house? Her bedroom? You mean like it was creepy her keeping it like that?”

“No, actually, her keeping it was okay with me. I think I get that. It’s something else. Something wrong, something different. I’ll grind it out and let you know when I know.”

“Okay, Harry, that’s what you’re good at.”

They went through the glass doors into the Panorama View Suites. In ten minutes they confirmed what they knew going in; that Mackey had moved out soon after he had completed his probation.