The Narrows (2004)

by Michael Connelly

  Eleanor laughed but then cut it off when she thought of something.

  "I wonder what she'll say her mother does."

  I couldn't answer that, so I changed the subject.

  "I love how her view of the world is uncluttered by deeper meanings," I said as I looked at the picture again. "It is so innocent, you know?"

  "I know. I love that, too. But I can understand if you don't want her thinking you're out there literally wrestling with demons. Why didn't you explain it to her?" I shook my head and thought of a story.

  "When I was a kid and I was still with my mother, there was this time that she had a car. A two-tone Plymouth Belvedere with push-button automatic transmission. I think her lawyer gave it to her to use or something. For a couple years. Anyway, she suddenly decided she wanted to go cross-country on a vacation. So we packed the car and just took off, her and me.

  "Anyway, somewhere in the south-I don't remember where-we stopped for gas and there were two water fountains on the side of this service station. There were signs, you know. One said white and the other said colored. And I just sort of went up to the one marked colored because I wanted to see what color the water was. Before I got to it my mom yanked me back and sort of explained things to me.

  "I remember that and sort of wish she'd just let me see the water and didn't explain anything."

  Eleanor smiled at the story.

  "How old were you?"

  "I don't know. About eight."

  She stood up then and came over to me. She kissed me on the cheek and I let her. I put my arm loosely around her waist.

  "Good luck with your demons, Harry."

  "Yeah."

  "If you ever change your mind about things, I'm here. We're here."

  I nodded.

  "She's going to change your mind, Eleanor. You wait and see." She smiled but in a sad way and gently caressed my chin with her hand.

  "Will you make sure the door is locked when you leave?"

  "Always."

  I let go of her and watched her walk out of the kitchen. I then looked down at the drawing of the man fighting his demon. In the picture my daughter had put a smile on my face.

  CHAPTER 36

  Before going up to my efficiency at the Double X, I stopped by the office and told Mr. Gupta, the night man, that I would be checking out. He told me that because I had been keeping the place on a weekly basis, my credit card had already been dinged for the entire week and I told him that was fine, I was still leaving. I told him I would leave the key on the dinette table after I gathered up my belongings. I was about to leave the office when I hesitated and then asked him about my neighbor Jane.

  "Yes, she is gone, too. Same thing."

  "What do you mean, same thing?"

  "We charge her for a week but she not stay a week."

  "Hey, do you mind me asking, what was her full name? I never got it."

  "She is Jane Davis. You like?"

  "Yeah, she was nice. We talked on the balconies. I didn't get to say good-bye. She didn't leave a forwarding address or anything like that, did she?" Gupta smiled at the prospect of this. He had very pink gums for someone with such dark skin.

  "No address," he said. "Not that one."

  I nodded my thanks for the information he had given me. I left the office and went up the stairs and then down the walkway to my room.

  It took me less than five minutes to gather my things. I had some shirts and pants on hangers. I then took out of the closet the same box in which I had brought everything and filled it with the rest of my belongings and a couple of toys I kept in the place for Maddie. Buddy Lockridge had been close, calling me Suitcase Harry. But Beer Box Harry would have been better.

  Before leaving I checked the refrigerator and saw I had one bottle of beer left. I took it out and cranked it open. I figured one beer for the road wouldn't hurt me. I had done worse in the past before a drive. I thought about making another cheese sandwich but skipped it when the thought reminded me of Backus's routine of eating grilled cheese sandwiches each day at Quantico. I went out onto the balcony with the beer for one last look at the rich men's jets. It was a cool and crisp evening. The blue lights on the far runway twinkled like sapphires.

  The two black jets were gone, their owners either quick winners or losers. The big Gulfstream remained in place, red dust caps over the intakes on its jet engines. It was settled in. I wondered what the jets might have had to do with Jane Davis and her stay at the Double X.

  I looked over at Jane's empty balcony, just four feet from my own. The ashtray was sitting on the railing and I could see it was still filled with half-smoked butts. Her unit had not been cleaned yet. And that gave me an idea. I looked around and down at the parking lot. I saw no human movement except for out on Koval, where the traffic was stalled at a traffic light. I saw no sign of the night security man or anyone else in the parking lot. I quickly hoisted myself up onto the railing and was about to climb across to the next balcony when I heard a knock on my door. I quickly dropped back down and went in and answered the door.

  It was Rachel Walling.

  "Rachel? Hello. Is something wrong?"

  "No, nothing that catching Backus couldn't cure. Can I come in?"

  "Sure."

  I stepped back to let her enter. She saw the box with my belongings piled into it. I spoke first.

  "How did it go today when you got back into town?"

  "Well, I got the usual tongue-lashing from the SAC."

  "Did you lay it all on me?"

  "As planned. He fumed and fussed but what's he going to do? I don't want to talk about him right now."

  "Then what?"

  "Well, for starters, do you have another one of those?"

  She meant the beer.

  "Actually, no. I was just finishing this one and was going to take off."

  "Then I'm glad I caught you."

  "You want to split it? I'll get you a glass."

  "You said you wouldn't trust the glasses here."

  "Well, I could wash-"

  She reached over for the bottle and took a sip from it. She handed it back, her eyes staying on mine. She then turned and pointed to the box. "So you're leaving."

  "Yeah, back to L. A. for a while."

  "You'll miss your daughter, I guess."

  "A lot."

  "You'll come back to see her?"

  "As often as I can."

  "That's nice. Anything else?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked, though I thought I knew what she meant.

  "Will you be coming back for anything else?"

  "No, just my daughter."

  We stood there looking at each other for a long moment. I held the beer out to her but when she came forward it was for me. She kissed me on the lips and then quickly we put our arms around each other.

  I know it had something to do with the trailer, our nearly dying together out there in the desert, that made us press so hard against each other and move toward the bed, that made me reach over and put the beer bottle on the table so I could use both my hands as we pulled at each other's clothes.

  We fell onto the bed and made survivors' love. It was quick and maybe to some degree even brutal-on both our parts. But most of all it satisfied the primal urge in both of us to fight death with life.

  When it was over we were entwined on top of the bed covers, she on top of me, my fists still tangled in her hair.

  She leaned to her left and reached for the beer bottle, knocking it over first and spilling most of what was left on the bed table and floor.

  "There goes my security deposit," I said. There was enough left in the bottle for her to take a draw and then pass it to me.

  "That was for today," she said as I drank.

  I gave her the rest.

  "What do you mean?"

  "After what happened out there, we had to do this."

  "Yeah."

  "Gladiator love. That's why I came here. To catch you."

  I smiled, thinking of
a gladiator joke from an old movie I liked. But I didn't tell her and she probably thought I was smiling at her words. She leaned down and put her head on my chest. I held up some of her hair, more gently this time, to look at the singed ends. I then moved my hands down and rubbed her back, thinking it was strange that we were being so gentle with each other now, just moments after being gladiators.

  "I don't suppose you'd be interested in opening a branch of your private investigations office in South Dakota, would you?"

  I smiled and stifled a laugh in my chest.

  "How about North Dakota?" she asked. "I could be going back there, too."

  "You have to have a tree to have a branch."

  She hit me with a gentle fist on the chest.

  "I didn't think so."

  I shifted my body so that I came out of her. She groaned but stayed on top of me.

  "Does that mean you want me to get up and get off and get out of here?"

  "No, Rachel. Not at all."

  I looked over her shoulder and saw that the door was unlocked. I had a vision of Mr. Gupta coming up to see if I had left yet and finding the two-backed monster on the bed in the supposedly empty unit. I smiled. I didn't care.

  She raised her face up to look at me.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. We left the door unlocked. Somebody could come in."

  "You left it unlocked. This is your place."

  I kissed her, realizing I had not kissed her lips during the entire time we had made love. Another strange thing.

  "You know what, Bosch?"

  "What?"

  "You're good at this."

  I smiled and told her thanks. A woman can play that card anytime and every time and always get the same response.

  "I mean it."

  She dug her nails into my chest to underline her point. With one arm I held her tightly to me and we rolled over. I figured I had at least ten years on her but I wasn't worried about it. I kissed her again and got up, gathering my clothes off the floor and walking over to the door to lock it.

  "I think there's one last clean towel in there," I said. "You can use it."

  She insisted I take the first shower and I did. Then while she showered I left the unit and walked across Koval to a convenience store to pick up two more beers. I was going to limit it to that because I was driving that night and didn't want alcohol to slow me down getting to the road or while on it. I was sitting at the dinette when she came out of the bathroom fully dressed and smiling when she saw the two bottles.

  "I knew you'd make yourself useful."

  She sat down and we clicked bottles.

  "To gladiator love," she said.

  We drank and just were quiet for a few moments. I was trying to figure out what the last hour now meant to me and to us.

  "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

  "About how this could get complicated."

  "It doesn't have to. We can just see what happens."

  That didn't sound the same to me as being asked to move to the Dakotas.

  "Okay."

  "I better get going."

  "Where to?"

  "Back to the FO, I guess. See what's shaking."

  "Did you hear what happened to the fire barrel out there after the blast? I forgot to look."

  "No, why?"

  "I looked in it when we were out there. For just a minute. It looked like he had been burning credit cards, maybe IDs."

  "The victims'?"

  "Probably. He burned books in it, too."

  "Books? Why do you think he did that?"

  "I don't know but it's strange. Inside the trailer he had books all over the place. So he burned some and some he didn't burn. Seems strange."

  "Well, if there is anything left of the barrel the ERT will get to it. Why didn't you mention it before, when you were interviewed out there?" "Because my head was ringing and I sort of forgot, I guess."

  "Short-term memory loss associated with concussion."

  "I don't have a concussion."

  "I meant the blast. Could you tell what books they were?"

  "Not really. I didn't have time. There was one I picked out. It was the least burned of what I could see. It looked like it was poetry. I think."

  She looked at me and nodded but didn't say anything.

  "What I don't get is why he burned the books. He set the whole trailer to go up but he takes the time to go out to the barrel and burn some books. Almost like ..."

  I stopped talking and tried to put the pieces together.

  "Almost like what, Harry?"

  "I don't know. Like he didn't want to leave the trailer thing to chance. He wanted to make sure those books were destroyed."

  "You are assuming that both things are together. Who knows, maybe he burned the books six months ago or something. You can't just connect the two things."

  I nodded. She was right about that but still the incongruity bothered me.

  "The book I found was near the top of the barrel," I said. "It was burned the last time the barrel was used. There was also a receipt in it. Half burned. But maybe they can trace it."

  "When I get back I'll check it out. But I don't remember seeing that barrel after the blast."

  I shrugged.

  "Neither do I."

  She stood up and so did I. "There's one other thing," I said as I reached into the inside pocket of my jacket. I pulled out the photo and handed it to her.

  "I must've grabbed it while I was in the trailer and then sort of forgot about it. I found it in my pocket."

  It was the photo taken from the printer tray. The two-story house with the old man out front next to the station wagon.

  "Great, Harry. How am I going to explain this?"

  "I don't know but I figured you'd want to try to ID the place or the old man."

  "What's the difference now?"

  "Come on, Rachel, you know it's not over."

  "No, I don't know that."

  It bothered me that she could not talk to me after we had been so intimate just a few minutes before.

  "Okay."

  I picked up my box and the clothing I had on hangers.

  "Wait a minute, Harry. You're just going to leave it like that? What do you mean it's not over?"

  "I mean we both know that wasn't Backus in there. If you and the bureau aren't interested in it, that's fine. But don't bullshit me, Rachel. Not after what we went through today, and not after what we just did."

  She relented.

  "Look, Harry, it's out of my hands, okay? Right now we are waiting on forensics to make a call on it. The bureau's official position probably won't be formulated until tomorrow when the director holds a press conference."

  "I'm not interested in the official position of the bureau. I was talking to you."

  "Harry, what do you want me to say?" "I want you to say you are going to get this guy, no matter what the director says tomorrow."

  I headed to the door and she followed. We left the efficiency and she pulled the door closed for me.

  "Where's your car?" I asked. "I'll walk you over."

  She pointed the way and we went down the steps and to her car, parked near the office. After she opened the door we turned and faced each other.

  "I want to get this guy," she said. "More than you could know."

  "Okay, good. I'll be in touch."

  "Well, what are you going to do?"

  "I don't know. When I do, I'll let you know."

  "Okay. See you, Bosch."

  "Good-bye, Rachel."

  She kissed me and then she got in the car. I walked to my car, ducking between the two buildings that made up the Double X to get to the other parking lot. I was pretty sure it was not the last time I would see Rachel Walling.

  CHAPTER 37

  On the way out of town I could have avoided the traffic of the strip but I decided not to. I thought all the lights might cheer me up. I knew I was leaving my daughter behind. I was going to Los Angeles to rejoin the department.
I would see my daughter again but I wouldn't be able to spend the kind of time with her I needed and wanted to. I was leaving to join the depressing legions of weekend fathers, the men who have to compress their love and duty into twenty-four-hour stands with their children. The thought of it raised a dark dread in my chest that a billion kilowatts of light could not cut through. There was no doubt I was leaving Las Vegas as a loser.