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“When you’re on the street in the middle of the night, you take every edge you can get,” Ballard said. “If this becomes a full internal investigation, I want to make sure I get that back.”
Gandle looked at her for a long moment, trying to get a read on whether she was telling the truth.
“So if I bring Bosch in, he’s going to tell the same story?”
“It is the story, so, yeah, he will.”
“One last question. On the video, your jacket’s all dirty. How come? What happened there?”
It was the one part of the story she and Bosch had not gone over. Though her shoulder was still sore, she forgot to tell Bosch she had fallen out of the FBI van and landed hard on the street. Her mind raced to come up with an answer that didn’t knock down any of the previous explanations.
“Oh… yeah, I fell.”
“You fell? Where?”
“I was up on Ocean Avenue on a bench, watching the meet between Bosch and those guys who wanted the guns. Ocean Avenue is above the parking lot, so that made it a good vantage point. Then when the shooting started, I wanted to get to Bosch. I should have taken the stairs down but they were like a hundred feet to my left. I tried to just run down the embankment and I lost my footing and fell. I got dirty.”
“So why didn’t you go to Bosch then? Why’d you wait till they were taping the crime scene?”
“Well, I was sort of hurt—I still need to get my shoulder checked out. I can’t sleep on it. But the main reason is that there were FBI snipers and they didn’t know about me. Only Bosch knew. I suddenlyrealized that if I ran out there into the parking lot, I might get shot. So I waited until the tape was up and it was safe.”
Ballard wasn’t completely happy with her quick answer but thought it covered the question. Gandle hesitated, then leaned across the desk and held out the chain, still dangling from his fingers. She opened her palm and he dropped the medal into her hand.
“I don’t know, Ballard,” he said. “The whole thing sounds sketchy.”
“It’s what happened,” Ballard said. “What are you going to tell theTimes?”
“Fuck theTimes.I’m not telling them anything. And if Anderson calls you or Bosch, you both better do the same. Now get out of here. I have work to do and so do you.”
Ballard stood up. She felt like she was in the clear.
“Wait a minute,” Gandle suddenly said. “Sit back down. What is going on with the case? You said Vegas was good but I don’t have a report from you yet.”
Ballard sat down again and summarized what she and Maddie Bosch had gotten from Van Ness and told him about the follow-ups being made on the three names he had given them. She said she would check with the coroner’s office to see if they still had blood from the late Taylor Weeks.
“Let’s hope it’s not a match,” Gandle said.
“Why?” Ballard asked.
“Because you get no real media traction with a dead suspect. We could use a live one for once. Somebody in cuffs at an arraignment or on a perp walk. A dead suspect just provides answers. A live one provides a shot at justice being carried out. That’s what the people want and it makes us look good.”
Ballard nodded in agreement. The captain was right.
“Then I hope Weeks is not a match and we find a live one,” she said. “Either way, I will close this case.”
She stood up again.
“One more thing,” Gandle said. “I’m thinking now that bringing Madeline Bosch into the unit was a mistake.”
“You approved her,” Ballard said.
“Yeah, I know. But now I want you to drop her.”
For the third time, Ballard sat down.
“What are you talking about?” she said. “She’s great. The Black Dahlia case is all because of her. And she was the one in Vegas who finally got Van Ness to open up and talk. On top of that, she’s the only one in the unit other than me who has a badge, and I’ve been telling you for months I need a second badge in the unit.”
“It just doesn’t look good,” Gandle said. “You and her father and that whole mess at the beach, then you turn around and bring in the daughter. Not good optics, Ballard. Cut her loose.”
