Bosch further explained how the weapon extracted a DNA sample from the person who shot it. The reporter seemed very interested in the happenstance of this and took detailed notes.

Bosch was pleased. The gun and DNA story was what he wanted to get into the paper. He wanted Mackey to read the story and know that his DNA was in the pipeline. It was being analyzed and compared. He would know that a sample from him was already in the DOJ database. The hope was that this would make him panic. Maybe he would try to run, maybe he would make a mistake and make a call in which he discussed the crime. One mistake would be all it would take.

“How long before you get results from the DOJ?” McKenzie asked.

Bosch fidgeted. He was trying not to lie directly to the reporter.

“Uh, that’s hard to say,” he answered. “The DOJ prioritizes comparison requests and there is always a backup. We should have something any day now.”

Bosch was pleased with his response but then the reporter threw another grenade into his foxhole.

“What about race?” she said. “I read all the clips and it seemed like nothing was ever brought up one way or the other about this girl being biracial. Do you think that played at all into the motivation of this murder?”

Bosch flicked a look at Garcia and hoped he would answer first.

“The case was fully explored in that regard in nineteen eighty-eight,” Garcia said. “We found nothing to support the racial angle. That’s probably why it wasn’t in the clips.”

The reporter turned her focus to Bosch, wanting the present take on the question as well.

“We’ve thoroughly reviewed the murder book and there is nothing there that would support a racial motivation in the case,” Bosch said. “We obviously are in the process of reworking the case, front to back, and we’ll be looking for anything that might have played a part in the motivation behind the crime.”

He looked at her and braced himself for her not accepting his answer and pressing it further. He thought about floating the racial angle into the story. It might improve the chances of some kind of response from Mackey. But it might also tip Mackey to how close they were to him. He decided to leave his answer as is.

Instead of pursuing the question further, the reporter flipped her notebook closed.

“I think I have what I need for right now,” she said. “I am going to go talk to Mrs. Verloren and then I have to hurry back and write this up to get it in tomorrow. Is there a number I can reach you at, Detective Bosch? Quickly, if I need to.”

Bosch knew she had him. He reluctantly gave her his cell number, knowing it meant that in the future she would have a direct line to him and would use it in regard to any case or story. It was the last payment on the deal they had made.

Everyone got up from the table and Bosch noticed that Emmy Ward had quietly come back into the office and had been sitting by the door during the interview. He and Garcia thanked them both for coming in and said good-bye. Bosch remained in the office with Garcia.

“I think that went well,” Garcia said after the door had closed.

“I hope so,” Bosch said. “It cost me a cell phone number. I’ve had that number for three years. Now I’ll have to change it and notify everybody about the new number. A big pain in the ass is what it’s going to be.”

Garcia ignored the complaint.

“How sure are you that this guy Mackey will even see the story?”

“We’re not. In fact, we believe he’s dyslexic. He might not read at all.”

Garcia’s jaw dropped.

“Then what are we doing?”

“Well, we have a plan for making sure he’s aware of the story. Don’t worry about that. We’ve got it covered. There’s also another name that’s come up since yesterday. An associate of Mackey then and now. His name is William Burkhart. Back when you were on the case he was known as Billy Blitzkrieg. That ring a bell?”

Garcia put on his best deep thinking look, like the one he had used for the camera, and moved around behind his desk. He then shook his head.

“Don’t think it came up,” he said.

“Yeah, you probably would have remembered.”

Garcia remained standing but leaned over the desk to look at his schedule.

“Let’s see. What have I got next?”

“You’ve got me, Commander,” Bosch said.

Garcia looked at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I need a few more minutes to clear up some of this stuff that’s come up.”

“What stuff? You mean this new guy, Blitzkrieg?”

“Yes, and the stuff the reporter asked about and we lied about. The racial angle.”

Bosch watched Garcia’s face set sternly into stone.

“I didn’t lie to her and I didn’t lie to you yesterday. We didn’t find it. We didn’t see a racial angle to this.”

“We?”

“My partner and I.”

“Are you sure about that?”

The phone on his desk buzzed. Garcia grabbed it up angrily and said, “No calls, no intrusions,” into it before dropping it back into its cradle.

“Detective, I want to remind you whom you are talking to,” Garcia said evenly. “Now what the fuck do you mean, ‘Are you sure?’ What are you saying?”

“With all due respect to the rank, sir, the case was pushed away from the racial angle in ’eighty-eight. I believe you when you say you didn’t see it. Otherwise, I can’t see you calling Pratt down at Open-Unsolved and reminding him there was DNA in the case. But if you didn’t know what was happening, then your partner certainly did. Did he ever talk about the pressure brought to bear on him from the command side on this case?”

“Ron Green was the finest detective I ever knew or worked with. I’m not going to let you besmirch his reputation.”

They stood just a few feet apart, the desk between them, their eyes locked in battle.

“I’m not interested in reputations. I’m interested in the truth. You said yesterday he ate his own gun a few years after this case. Why? Was there a note?”

“The burden, Detective. He couldn’t carry it anymore. He was haunted by the ones who got away.”

“What about the ones he let get away?”

Garcia pointed an angry finger at Bosch.

“How fucking dare you? You are on thin ice here, Bosch. I could make one call to the sixth floor and you’d be out on the street before sundown. You understand me? I know about you. You’re just back from retirement and that makes you expendable with one phone call. You understand me?”

“Sure. I understand you.”

Bosch sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, hoping it might defuse the tension in the room a little bit. Garcia hesitated and then he sat down as well.

“I find what you have just said to me completely insulting,” he said, his voice juiced with anger.

“I’m sorry, Commander. I was trying to see what you knew.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I am sorry, sir, but the case was definitely stonewalled by chain of command. I don’t want to get into names with you at this point. Some of them are still active. But I think this case revolved on race-the connection to Mackey and now Burkhart proves it. And you didn’t have Mackey or Burkhart back then, but you had the gun and there were other things. I needed to find out if you were part of it. I would say by your reaction that you weren’t.”

“But you are telling me my partner was, and that he kept it from me.”

Bosch nodded.

“Impossible,” Garcia protested. “Ron and I were close.”

“All partners are close, Commander. But not that close. From what I understand, you took care of the book and Green pressed the case forward. If he encountered resistance from within the department, he might have chosen to keep it from you. I think he did. Maybe he was protecting you, maybe he was humiliated about being vulnerable to the push. ”

Garcia dropped his eyes from Bosch and looked down at his desk. Bosch could tell he was looking at a memory. Something in the stone wall of his face broke and gave way.