Bosch took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. He didn’t light it and he didn’t offer one to Powers. He remembered offering one to the big cop at the crime scene and being turned down.

“The alternative to that,” he continued, “is that we sit here and try to get this straightened out right now. You’ve got two forms there in front of you. The good thing about dealing with a cop like this is I don’t really need to explain this stuff to you. The first one’s a rights form. You know what that is. You sign that you understand your rights and then you make your choice. Talk to me or call your lawyer after we book you. The second form is the attorney waiver.”

Powers stared silently down at the pages and Bosch put a pen down on the table.

“I’ll take the cuffs off when you’re ready to sign,” Bosch said. “See, now the bad thing about dealing with a cop is that I can’t bluff you. You know the game. You know if you sign that waiver and talk to me, you’ll either talk yourself out of this or right into it…I can give you more time to think about it, if you want.”

“I don’t need any more time,” he said. “Take off the cuffs.”

Bosch got up and went around behind Powers.

“You right or left?”

“Right.”

There was barely enough room between the back of the big man and the wall to work on the cuffs. It was a dangerous position to be in with most suspects. But Powers was a cop and he probably knew that the moment he became violent was the moment he lost any chance of getting out of this room and back to his life. He also had to assume someone was watching and ready behind the glass in room four. Bosch unhooked the right cuff and closed it around one of the metal slats of the chair.

Powers scribbled signatures across both forms. Bosch tried to give no indication of his excitement. Powers was making a mistake. Bosch took the pen from him and put it in his pocket.

“Put your arm behind you.”

“Come on, Bosch. Treat me like a human. If we’re going to talk, let’s talk.”

“Put your arm behind you.”

Powers did as he was told and blew out his breath in frustration. Bosch recuffed his wrists through the metal slat at the back of the chair and then took his seat again. He cleared his throat, going over the last details in his mind. He knew his mission here. He had to make Powers believe he had the edge, that he had a chance to get out. If he believed that, then he might start talking. If he started talking, Bosch thought he could win the fight.

“Okay,” Bosch said. “I’m going to lay it out for you. If you can convince me that we have it wrong, then you’ll be out of here before the sun’s up.”

“That’s all I want.”

“Powers, we know you have a relationship with Veronica Aliso predating her husband’s death. We know you followed him to Vegas on at least two occasions prior to the killing.”

Powers kept his eyes on the table in front of him. But Bosch was able to read them like the needles of a polygraph machine. There had been a slight tremor in the pupils when Bosch mentioned Las Vegas.

“That’s right,” Bosch said. “We’ve got the records from the Mirage. That was careless, Powers, leaving a record like that. We can put you in Vegas with Tony Aliso.”

“So I like goin’ to Vegas, big deal. Tony Aliso was there? Wow, what a coincidence. From what I heard, he went there a lot. What else you got?”

“We’ve got your print, Powers. Fingerprint. Inside the car. You got a refill of pepper spray on Sunday, but you never filed a use-of-force report explaining how you used it.”

“Accidental discharge. I didn’t file a use-of-force because there wasn’t any. You haven’t got shit. My fingerprint? You’re right, you’ve probably got prints. But I was in that car, asshole. I’m the one who found the body, remember? This is a joke, man. I’m thinking I better just get my lawyer in here and take my chances. No DA is going to touch this bullshit with a ten-foot pole.”

Bosch ignored the baiting and went on.

“And last but not least, we have your little climb down the hill tonight. Your story is for shit, Powers. You went down there to look for Aliso’s suit bag because you knew it was there and you thought it had something you and the widow overlooked before. About a half million dollars. The only question I really have is whether she called you up and told you or if that was you in her house this morning when we dropped by.”

Bosch saw the pupils jump again slightly but then they went flat.

“Like I said, I’ll take that lawyer now.”

“I guess you’re just the errand boy, right? She told you to go and get the money while she waited at the mansion.”

Powers started laughing in a fake way.

“I like that, Bosch. Errand boy. Too bad I barely know the woman. But it’s a good try. Good try. I like you, too, Bosch, but I gotta tell you something.”

He leaned across the table and lowered his voice.

“I ever run across you again on the outside, you know, when it’s just me and you, head to head, I’m going to seriously fuck you up.”

He straightened up again and nodded. Bosch smiled.

“You know, I don’t think I was sure until now. But now I’m sure. You did it, Powers. You’re the man. And there is never going to be an outside for you. Never. So tell me, whose idea was it? Was she the first one to bring it up or was that you?”

Powers stared sullenly down at the table and shook his head.

“Let me see if I can figure it out,” Bosch said. “I guess you went up there to that big house and saw all that they had, the money, maybe heard about Tony and his Rolls, and it just went on from there. I’m betting it was your idea, Powers. But I think she knew you would come up with it. See, she’s a smart woman. She knew you would come up with it. And she waited…

“And you know what? We’ve got nothing on her. Nothing. She played you perfect, man. Right down the line. She’s going to do the walk and you”-he pointed at Powers’s chest-“are going to do the time. Is that how you want it?”

Powers leaned back, a bemused smile on his face.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Powers said. “You’re the errand boy here, but look at yourself. You’ve got nothin’ to deliver. Look at what you’ve got. You can’t tie me to Aliso. I found the body, man. I opened the car. If you found a print, then that’s when I left it. All the rest is a bunch of bullshit adding up to nothing. You go in to see a prosecutor with that, they’re going to laugh your ass out onto Temple Street. So go get me the phone, errand boy, and let’s get it on. Just go get me the phone.”

“Not yet, Powers,” Bosch said. “Not just yet.”

Bosch sat at his spot at the homicide table with his head down on his folded arms. An empty coffee cop was near his elbow. A cigarette he had perched on the edge of the table had burned down to the butt, leaving one more scar on the old wood.

Bosch was alone. It was almost six and there was just the hint of dawn’s light coming through the windows that ran high along the east wall of the room. He’d gone at it for more than four hours with Powers and had gained no ground. He hadn’t even made a dent in Powers’s cool demeanor. The first rounds had assuredly gone to the big patrol cop.

Bosch wasn’t asleep, though. He was simply resting and waiting and his thoughts remained focused on Powers. Bosch had no doubts. He was sure that he had the right man sitting handcuffed in the interview room. What minimal evidence they had certainly pointed to Powers. But it was more than the evidence that convinced him. It was experience and gut instinct. Bosch believed an innocent man would have been scared, not smug as Powers had been. An innocent man would not have taunted Bosch. And so what still remained now was to take away that smugness and break him. Bosch was tired but still felt up to the task. The only thing that worried him was time. Time was against him.

Bosch raised his head and looked at his watch. Billets would be back in three hours. He picked up the empty cup, used his palm to push the dead cigarette and its ashes into it and dropped it into the trash can under the table. He stood up, lit another cigarette and took a walk down the aisle between the crime tables. He tried to clear his mind, to get ready for the next round.