Bosch also understood that his daughter had been left traumatized by the past sixty hours of her life, and while he couldn’t begin to know how to care for her in this regard, he instinctively felt that any added comfort couldn’t hurt.

Noting Bosch’s unkempt appearance, the woman behind the counter mentioned to him that the first-class waiting lounge offered showering facilities to travelers. Bosch thanked her for the tip, took their boarding passes and then followed a first-class hostess to security. As expected, they breezed through the checkpoint on the power of their newfound status.

They had almost three hours to kill and though the previously mentioned shower facility was tempting, Bosch decided that food might be a more pressing need. He couldn’t remember when and what he had last eaten and he assumed his daughter had been equally deprived of nourishment.

“You hungry, Mads?”

“Not really.”

“They fed you?”

“No, uh-uh. I couldn’t eat, anyway.”

“When did you last eat something?”

She had to think.

“I had a piece of pizza at the mall on Friday. Before…”

“Okay, we’ve got to eat, then.”

They took an escalator up to an area where there were a variety of restaurants overlooking the duty-free shopping mecca. Bosch chose a sit-down restaurant in the center of the concourse that had good views of the shopping level. His daughter ordered chicken fingers and Bosch ordered a steak and french fries.

“You should never order a steak at an airport,” Madeline said.

“Why’s that?”

“You won’t get good quality.”

Bosch nodded. It was the first time she had said something more than one or two words in length since they had said good-bye to Sun. Harry had been watching her slowly collapse inward as the release of fear that followed her escape wore off and the reality of what she had been through and what had happened to her mother sank in. Bosch had feared she might be going into some form of shock. Her odd observation about the quality of steak in an airport seemed to indicate that she was in a dissociated state.

“Well, I guess I’ll find out.”

She then jumped the conversation to a new place.

“So am I going to live in L.A. with you now?”

“I think so.”

He studied her face for a reaction. It remained unchanged-blank stare over cheeks streaked with dried tears and sadness.

“I want you to,” Bosch said. “And last time you were over, you said you wanted to stay.”

“But not like this.”

“I know.”

“Will I ever go back to get my things and say good-bye to my friends”

Bosch thought for a moment before responding.

“I don’t think so,” he finally said. “I might be able to get your things sent. But you’re probably going to have to e-mail your friends, I guess. Or call them.”

“At least I’ll be able to say good-bye.”

Bosch nodded and was silent, noting the obvious reference to her lost mother. She soon spoke again, her mind like a balloon caught in the wind, touching down here and there on unpredictable currents.

“Are we, like, wanted by the police here?”

Bosch looked around to see if anyone sitting nearby had heard the question, then leaned forward to answer.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “We could be. I could be. But I don’t want to find out here. It will be better to deal with all of this from L.A.”

After a pause she asked another question and this one hit Bosch between the numbers.

“Dad, did you kill those men that had me? I heard a lot of shooting.”

Bosch thought about how he should answer-as a cop, as a father-but didn’t take too long.

“Let’s just say that they got what they deserved. And that whatever happened was brought on by their own actions. Okay?”

“Okay.”

When the food came they stopped talking and ate ravenously. Bosch had chosen the restaurant, the table and his seat so that he would have a good view of the shopping area and the security gate beyond. As he ate, he kept a vigilant watch for any unusual activity involving the airport’s security staff. Any movement of multiple personnel or search activity would cause him concern. He had no idea if he was even on any police radar yet but he had cut a deadly path across Hong Kong and had to remain alert to it catching up to him.

“Are you going to finish your french fries” Maddie asked.

Bosch turned his plate so she could reach the fries.

“Have at it.”

When she reached across the table her sleeve pulled back and Bosch saw the bandage in the crook of her elbow. He thought of the bloodstained tissue Eleanor had found in the wastebasket in the room at Chungking Mansions.

Bosch pointed at her arm.

“Maddie, how did you get that? Did they take your blood?”

She put her other hand over the wound as if that could stop all consideration of it.

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Can you just tell me one thing”

“Yes, Quick took my blood.”

“I was going to ask something else. Where were you before you were put in the trunk and taken to the boat?”

“I don’t know, some kind of hospital place. Like a doctor’s office. I was locked in a room the whole time. Please, Dad, I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”

“Okay, sweetheart, we’ll talk about it when you want.”

After the meal, they headed down to the shopping area. Bosch bought a complete set of new clothes in a men’s store and a pair of jogging shoes and arm sweatbands in a sports shop. Maddie declined the offer of new clothing and said she’d stick with what was in her backpack.

Their next stop was a general store and Maddie picked out a stuffed panda bear she said she wanted to use as a pillow and a book called The Lightning Thief.

They then headed to the airline’s first-class lounge and signed up to use the shower facilities. Despite a long day’s buildup of blood, sweat and grime, Bosch showered quickly because he didn’t want to be separated from his daughter for very long. Before getting dressed he checked the wound on his arm. It was clotted and beginning to scab over. He used the armbands he had just bought as a double bandage over the wound.

Once he was dressed he took the top off the trash can that was next to the sink in the shower room. He bundled his old clothes and shoes together and buried them under the paper towels and other debris in the can. He didn’t want anyone to spot his belongings and retrieve them, especially the shoes in which he had trod across the bloody tiles in Tuen Mun.

Feeling somewhat refreshed and ready for the long flight ahead, he stepped out and looked around for his daughter. He didn’t see her anywhere in the lounge and went back to wait for her near the entrance to the women’s shower room. After fifteen minutes and no sign of Madeline, he started getting worried. He waited another five and then went to the reception desk and asked the woman behind the counter to send an employee into the shower room to check on his daughter.

The woman said she would do it herself. Bosch followed and then waited when she went into the shower room. He heard the shower running when the door was opened. He then heard voices and soon the woman from the front desk stepped out.

“She’s still in the shower and she said everything is fine. She said she was going to be a while longer.”

“Okay, thanks.”

The woman went back to her position and Bosch checked his watch. The boarding of their flight would not start for at least a half hour. There was time. He went back to the lounge and sat in a chair nearest to the hallway leading to the showers. He kept watch the whole time.

He couldn’t imagine where Madeline’s thoughts were. He knew she needed help and that he was completely unequipped to provide it. His governing thought was simply to get her back to Los Angeles and to go from there. He already had in mind who he would call in to counsel Maddie once he got her there.