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“Harry, you okay?”

“Yeah, I was nowhere close to it. I told Maddie to tell you.”

“She did. I just wanted to hear your voice. This is fucked up.”

“Beyond all recognition.”

“They know anything yet?”

“No, too early.”

Ballard asked several more questions about the shipyard that he could not answer because he either didn’t know or was forbidden to talk about it. The feds were keeping a tight lid on the details of what had happened and who it had happened to.

Ballard finally got to the real point of the call.

“I need to give you a heads-up,” she said. “The Talbots are maintaining a united front. The wife is holding strong and not making a deal. And they have already filed a motion to suppress everything we got with the cemetery caper.”

“What’s the DA think their chances are?” Bosch asked.

“He thinks we’ll prevail in the long run, but in the short run it’s a ploy to keep the Talbots out of jail for as long as possible.”

“How?”

“There will be a hearing on the motion, and if it goes against them, they’ll appeal. Their lawyers will ask for a low bail while this wends its way through the courts. They can take it all the way to the Supreme Court if they want. That will take years, and they’ll argue that they shouldn’t be detained while waiting for the decision.”

“I guess we should have seen that coming. The DA will oppose, right?”

“Absolutely. In the meantime, our prosecutor wants to get it moving. The hearing will be next week, and you’ll need to testify. Do you think you’ll be clear with the feds by then?”

“Should be, yeah. If not, I’ll tell them I have to make time for this.”

“Good.”

“Anything come in yet on Wonderland?”

He meant the analysis of the pipe with the hash marks on it.

“Forensics is still working on it,” Ballard said. “We should have something soon.”

“Okay,” Bosch said. “Let me know.”

“Will do. Have a good one.”

“Back at you.”

Bosch disconnected and sat for a moment thinking about testifying at the suppression hearing. It had been a while since he had had to carry a case in court. This time he wouldn’t be trying to impress a jury. He would have to sway a judge.

He got out of the car and entered his house through the side door into the kitchen. He stopped at the sink and filled a glass with water, then headed to the back deck, where he would further contemplate the day’s wins and losses. But as he stepped out of the kitchen, he saw through the glass sliders at the end of the living room that there was someone already on the deck. It was a man, his back turned to the house. He was using Bosch’s binoculars, focusing on something across the pass.

“Hey, old man.”

Bosch whipped around and saw Sidewalls sitting in the extra dining-table chair he kept in the corner of the room. He had walked right by him. Sidewalls was wearing black driving gloves and casually holding a Glock 19 on his lap.

And then out of the hallway to the bedrooms stepped Topknot. He had white tape over the bridge of his broken nose and a zipper of stitches arcing over one eyebrow. The skin under his eyes was deep purple. He was also wearing gloves and that sent a chill through Bosch. Both men wearing gloves meant they didn’t want to leave any prints behind and that told him something bad was about to happen.

“What do you want?” Bosch said.

He tried to put indignation into his voice, this being the second intrusion into his home this week. Sidewalls got up, came to him, took the glass out of his hand, and put it down on the dining table.