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“For what?”
“We’ll talk about that when we get there. You have your phone on you?”
“I got it.”
“Good. Let’s go. You lead the way. Tell your guy you’re just walking me out.”
“Whatever.”
He opened the door and immediately his security man stood up from his chair in the hall.
“Be right back, big man,” he said. “Just walking the lady out.”
Lionel headed up the hall. Ballard smiled at the security man and followed. The walk to the end of the hall seemed to take forever, but she knew that turning around and checking on the security man might tip him off that something was wrong.
They made it through the lobby and out to the street.
“Now what?” Lionel said.
“I got something in my car I want to show you,” Ballard said. “It’s over here.”
They walked up Speedway, to where the Defender was parked. Ballard opened the driver’s door, pulled the gun from the handbag, and held it free. She leaned into the car, threw the bag in, and reached under the driver’s seat for her handcuffs. She turned to Lionel, and his eyes went wide when he saw the cuffs.
“What the fuck?”
“Put your hands on the car.”
“Wait, you’re arresting me? I’m trying to help you here.”
He turned to run, but Ballard was ready for the move. She grabbed the back of his collar and the thick gold chain around his neck. She yanked him backward and spun him to the ground. Putting a knee on his spine, she shoved her gun into the waistband of her jeans. She pulled his right arm behind his back, cuffed it, and then went for the left.
“What are the charges?” Lionel yelled.
Ballard couldn’t help but laugh.
“You really need to ask?” Ballard said. “Let’s start with possession of stolen property. That Prada bag still has a Nordstrom price tag on it. Two grand, Lionel. That puts you into a felony and a cell.”
Ballard checked his pockets and pulled out a set of keys, a roll of cash, and his phone. She needed that phone for her plan to work.
“Now we’re going to get up,” she said. “If you help me, you’ll be able to make all of this go away.”
“Fuck you,” Lionel said. “I ain’t fucking helping you do shit.”
“We’ll see if you change your mind after a night in a cell.”
“I got a lawyer. He’ll get me out in an hour. You heard of the Lincoln Lawyer, bitch?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him. But the thing about lawyers is that they have to be able to find you to get you out.”
The Lion didn’t have a comeback for that.
“Let’s go,” Ballard said. “Get up.”
14
BALLARD KNOCKED ONthe door of the house on Woodrow Wilson. It was dark but the lights were on behind the windows. She was raising her fist to knock a second time when the door opened and there stood Harry Bosch.
“Renée, you all right?”
