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“Welcome home, Stokely,” Bosch said.
“Fuck you.”
“Go in. Now.”
Novak took the step up and went through the door into what had been the kitchen.
“Keep going,” Bosch said. “Out to the main hall. You know the way.”
Novak kept moving, carefully stepping around debris on the tile floor. Bosch raised the Taser and shot electrodes into his back again, then hit the safety switch once more to blunt the charge.
Novak jerked at the unexpected shot and stepped on something with his bare foot.
“Ouch, goddamn it! That was a nail.”
“Just keep going. Watch where you step.”
With Novak leading the way and Bosch holding the Taser at the ready, they moved into the dining hall. As they passed through, he saw the paper bag Novak had discarded when he’d brought Bosch back here to kill him — the bag that had contained the radio he took from Charlie Lamb and that was meant to be part of Bosch’s staged suicide. The radio was collected by the FBI that night as evidence. The bag reminded Bosch that he wanted to get it back.
They walked into the corridor that ran the length of the building.
“Which way?” Novak asked.
“You know which way,” Bosch said.
“Uh, no, I don’t. Because I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”
“Go right. We’re going to the hollow.”
Novak started heading down the hall without comment. Soon they came to the staircase and landing under which the hollow was located. The door was ajar.
“Go in,” Bosch said.
“What?” Novak said.
“You heard me. Get in that crawl space now.”
“You’re fucking crazy, man.”
Nonetheless, Novak got down and shuffled on his knees to the opening. He then ducked and shuffled on his knees into the space.
“Go to the back wall and sit,” Bosch directed.
“It stinks in here,” Novak said.
“Go to the back wall.”
“I’m going.”
Bosch crouched down and looked into the crawl space. Bobby Walker’s belongings and debris were still inside.
“Happy?” Novak said. “Smells like shit in here.”
Holding the Taser up as a reminder of what he could do, Bosch crawled through the opening and into the hollow. He pulled the duffel bag in behind him and sat down on the floor against the wall opposite Novak.
“You remember this place?” he asked. “This is where you bashed Charlie Lamb’s head on the tile and killed him. For a fucking transistor radio.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Novak said. “You’re obsessed, Bosch. You want me to say I did it? Will that make you feel better? A confession? Okay, I did it. Take me in and I’ll put it on tape.”
