The Dark Hours (Harry Bosch #23)(5)

Ballard then signaled Finley and Watts into a huddle to ask them about first impressions of the crime. They told her the victim was nonresponsive upon arrival and appeared to have been hit by a falling bullet. The wound was at the top of the head. They said they were mostly occupied with crowd control, keeping people away from the victim and creating space for the paramedics.

As she was wrapping up with them, Ballard got a call from Moore, who was at Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center.

“The victim’s family is all here, and they’re about to get the word that he didn’t make it,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”

I want you to act like a trained detective, Ballard thought but didn’t say.

“Keep the family there,” she said instead. “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll try,” Moore said.

“Don’t try, do it,” Ballard said. “I’ll be there in ten. Do you know if they speak English?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay, find out and text me. I’ll bring somebody in case.”

“What’s it looking like over there?”

“Too early to tell. If it was an accident, the shooter didn’t stick around. And if it wasn’t, I’ve got no camera and no witnesses.”

Ballard disconnected and walked over to Rodriguez.

“Victor, you need to drive me to Hollywood Pres,” she said.

“No problem.”

Ballard informed Byron of where she was going and asked him to keep the crime scene secured until she got back.

As she crossed the lot, following Rodriguez to his car, she saw the first drops of rain hitting the asphalt amid the bullet casings.





4


Rodriguez used the lights but not the siren to speed their drive to the hospital. Ballard used the minutes to call her lieutenant at home to update him. Derek Robinson-Reynolds, the OIC of Hollywood detectives, picked up immediately, having texted Ballard his request for the update.

“Ballard, I was expecting to hear from you sooner than this.”

“Sorry, L-T. We had several witnesses to talk to before we could get a handle on this. I also just heard that our victim is DOA.”

“Then I’ll have to get West Bureau out. I know they’re already running full squad on a two-bagger from yesterday.”

Homicides were handled out of West Bureau. Robinson-Reynolds was ready to pass the investigation off but knew it would not be well received by his counterpart at West Bureau Homicide.

“Sir, you can do that, of course, but I haven’t determined what this is yet. There were a lot of people shooting guns at midnight. Not sure if this was accidental or intentional. I’m heading to the hospital now to get a look at him.”

“Well, didn’t any of the witnesses see it?”

“Not the witnesses who stuck around. They just saw the victim on the ground. Anybody who saw it happen scrammed out of there before the unis got on scene.”

There was a pause as the lieutenant considered his next move.

They were a block from the hospital. Ballard spoke before Robinson-Reynolds responded.

“Let me run with it, L-T.”

Robinson-Reynolds remained silent. Ballard made her case.

“West Bureau is running on the two-bagger. We don’t even know what this is yet. Let me stay with it and we’ll see where it stands in the morning. I’ll call you then.”

The lieutenant finally spoke.

“I don’t know, Ballard. Not sure I want you capering out there on your own.”

“I’m not alone. I’m with Lisa Moore, remember?”

“Right, right. Nothing on that tonight?”

He was asking about the Midnight Men.

“Not so far. We’re pulling into Hollywood Pres now. The family of the victim is here.”

It pushed Robinson-Reynolds to make a decision.

“Okay, I’ll hold off on West Bureau. For now. Keep me informed. No matter the hour, Ballard.”

“Roger that.”

“Okay, then.”

Robinson-Reynolds disconnected. Ballard’s phone buzzed with a text as Rodriguez was pulling to a stop behind Ballard’s car, which had been left by Moore in an ambulance bay.

“Was that Dash?” Rodriguez asked. “What did he say?”

He was using the short name ascribed to Robinson-Reynolds by most in the division when not addressing the lieutenant personally. Ballard checked the text. It had come from Moore: No English spoken here.

“He gave us the green light,” Ballard said.

“Us?” Rodriguez said.

“I’m probably going to need you in here too.”

“Sergeant Byron told me to double-time back.”

“Sergeant Byron’s not in charge of the investigation. I am, and you’re with me until I say otherwise.”

“Roger that — as long as you tell him.”

“I will.”

Ballard found Moore in the ER waiting room, surrounded by a group of crying women and one teenage boy. Raffa’s family had just gotten the bad news about their husband and father. A wife, three adult daughters, and the son were all exhibiting various degrees of shock, grief, and anger.

“Oh, boy,” Rodriguez said as they approached.