The Burning Room

by Michael Connelly

  Bosch nodded once more.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  40

  Bosch arrived in the squad room to find Soto already in place at her desk. In fact, she revealed, she had been in place since Sunday. She had come in to write the Bonnie Brae investigative summary that would be submitted to Captain Crowder for approval and then to the District Attorney’s Office, which also had to sign off on the official closing of a case by means other than arrest and conviction. Bosch had given her the summary assignment, since it was her case in more ways than one.

  The report was twelve pages long. It was thorough and complete and Bosch found himself unconsciously nodding as he read. She had ordered the facts they had gathered in such a way that the report was conclusive, and yet they still didn’t have the exact nexus where Ana Acevedo crossed paths with the two men who started the Bonnie Brae fire and then committed the EZBank robbery.

  He thought that there would be no pushback from Crowder because there was no downside for him. He could announce that he had cleared a major case, and there would be no trial to possibly prove him wrong. That was a perfect world for him. But the next step would be the tough one. The D.A.’s Office would not so readily sign off because of the lack of a confession, hard evidence, or a direct connection between all of the players involved.

  There would be ways to handle the D.A.’s Office, Bosch knew. The closing of the case would be a huge story in the media, not only because of the number of victims and who the dead suspects were, but because of the investigator who pursued it. Soto’s summary revealed her personal ties to the fire. All of that could be used and marshaled in support of the official closing of the case.

  When he was finished reading it for the second time, Bosch had only one question for Soto.

  “Lucy, are you sure you want to reveal your connection to this?”

  “Yes. It’s my story. Even if it gets me in trouble, it’s time.”

  Bosch nodded. He wasn’t going to talk her out of it. She was right. It was her story and it was time to tell it. It would, however, reveal that when she had applied to the Department, she had left out any mention of the Bonnie Brae fire as a motivating factor in her decision to become a police officer.

  The phone on his desk buzzed and Bosch picked it up. It was Crowder.

  “Harry, I need you to come in here,” he said.

  “Good,” Bosch said. “We were just going to head over to see you.”

  “No, just you. Come over now.”

  “But Soto has—”

  “Just you.”

  Crowder hung up before he could argue further. Bosch put the phone down and told Soto they would submit the report to Crowder later. He walked the perimeter of the squad room and entered the open door of the captain’s office. Lieutenant Samuels was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

  “Harry, take a seat,” Crowder said.

  “That’s okay, I’ll stand,” Bosch said.

  “Well, I don’t want you going all ballistic when you hear this.”

  “Hear what?”

  “Just got a call from the D.A.’s Office. They’re not going to proceed against Zeyas.”

  It took Bosch a moment to process the news and come up with a response.

  “What cowards,” he said. “What bullshit.”

  “Look,” Crowder said. “The guy who called me—Boland—said the evidence isn’t there for conviction. There’s no independent corroborating evidence. Zeyas didn’t say anything remotely incriminating on the tape—he totally played Spivak—and all of Spivak’s so-called evidence is self-serving bullshit any defense lawyer in the land could knock flat. So if it comes down to that, Zeyas wins, especially if he gets an Eastside jury.”

  Bosch shrugged as if the news was a minor irritant.

  “I’ll refile it with somebody else over there,” he said. “Boland’s a kid afraid of the dark. Either that or he was bought off.”

  “No, Harry, you won’t refile with anybody,” Crowder said. “The decision wasn’t Boland’s. It came from on high. It’s over. Lucky Lucy put Broussard down and that’s where it ends. Case closed. You can take comfort in knowing that Zeyas has no shot at the governor’s mansion and no other candidate out there will ever hire Spivak again. Not after the way the Times has been blowing this thing up the past two weeks.”

  Virginia Skinner was leading the charge for the Times—thanks to Bosch making good on his promise. But none of that mattered at the moment. Bosch was suddenly sick to death of everything.

  “Is that it?” he asked. “Are we done?”

  “No, we’re not done,” Crowder said. “Lieutenant?”

  Samuels got up and stood in front of Bosch. It looked as though whatever he was about to say, he was going to be happy to say it. And that didn’t bode well for Bosch.

  “Detective, I need you to put your weapon and your badge on the captain’s desk,” he instructed.

  “What are you talking about?” Bosch asked.

  “Gun and badge on the desk. Now. You are suspended, Detective, pending the outcome of an internal investigation.”

  Bosch glanced at Crowder and saw the captain watching impassively. He’d get no help from him. Samuels remained pointing at the desk, his posture stiff, like he was about to get physical if necessary. He was much bigger, wider, and younger than Bosch. It would be no match.

  Bosch slowly pulled his gun from his holster and placed it on the desk. He followed that with his badge. Crowder immediately took them and put them into a desk drawer.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about or what I supposedly did,” Bosch said. “But Soto and I are about to close the biggest case cleared around here in twenty years and you are going to look like—”

  “You want to know what I’m talking about?” Samuels interrupted. “I’ll show you what I’m talking about. I just played it for the captain.”

  Samuels walked over to the TV monitor that was on top of a four-drawer file cabinet. He picked up the remote that was beneath it and hit play. A darkened room appeared on camera. In the background there was a rectangular, floor-to-ceiling window next to a closed door. The window allowed for some light to enter from the outside room.

  “Captain Gandle over in Robbery Special collects pens, did you know that?” Samuels asked.

  “No, I didn’t,” Bosch said. “Who gives a shit?”

  “Well, Captain Gandle does, and the problem is that people have been coming in his office and stealing his pens and, hell, some of them were worth a lot of money. So the captain got himself a nanny cam and set it up on the shelf in his office. And look what he got.”

  On-screen the door opened and an overhead light was flicked on. There was Bosch entering the room. He tossed something into the trash can and proceeded to the shelves holding the robbery journals.

  “That’s breaking and entering right there, Bosch,” Samuels said. “You should contact your union rep, because you’re going to need one.”

  “This is bullshit,” Bosch said. “I needed to look at the robbery journals. I didn’t take a goddamn thing out of that office.”

  “The rules are the rules,” Samuels said. “The door was locked and you picked the lock. Captain Gandle found your bent paperclips in the trash basket. It’s still an illegal entry whether you took something or not. You’re lucky you’re not under arrest right now, but the good captain here determined that wasn’t necessary.”

  Bosch looked at Crowder one more time.

  “You’re okay with this?” he asked.

  “Harry, what the fuck?” Crowder said. “You broke into a captain’s office. Was that really necessary? Does any case make that necessary?”

  “Go home, Bosch,” Samuels said. “You are suspended pending further investigation. You will be advised as to when the investigation is concluded and if you must appear at a Board of Rights hearing.”

  Bosch was so stunned, he seemed to have lost the ability to move.

  “Go home,�
�� Samuels said again. “And I sure hope you did not involve your partner in your actions. I’d hate to lose a young gun like that.”

  Bosch found the will to move his feet. He turned and headed to the door. Samuels stopped him.

  “You know, Bosch, a short-timer like you, you really ought to think about just pulling the pin and not dealing with all this bullshit,” he said. “You’ve put in your time. Why hassle with this?”

  Bosch looked back at Samuels, and the lieutenant pantomimed pulling a badge off the left breast of a uniform blouse.

  “This is weak, Samuels,” he said. “Just like you.”

  He slowly stepped out of the office and started toward his cubicle. He felt several eyes on him. People had seen through the glass as he had turned over his badge and gun. The word was spreading. Something like this could never be contained in a room full of detectives.

  Soto was at her desk in the cubicle and she turned in her chair as he entered and went to his own desk.

  “Harry, what is going on?” she said. “People said they just took your gun and badge.”

  Bosch pulled his chair over to hers. He sat down and leaned in close.

  “I’m suspended,” he said.

  “What?” she exclaimed. “For what?”

  “Listen to me. When they come and ask you about the day I broke into the captain’s office in Robbery, you tell them you weren’t there. You say you stayed back here and I went alone. Got that?”

  “No, Harry, I’m not going—”

  “You have to do this, Lucia. I am going to say the same thing. You weren’t there. And guess what? You weren’t. You were out in the hall. You just tell whoever comes from Professional Standards that you just stayed at your desk. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Bosch glanced over at the captain’s office. Samuels was standing in the doorway watching him. Harry figured he had another five minutes max before Samuels called for a couple of patrol officers to escort him from the building.

  “I’ve been down this road a few times,” he told Soto. “Protect yourself and you’ll be fine. I will be, too. I can beat this.”

  Then, almost under his breath, he added, “If I want to.”

  He pushed his chair back to his desk and gathered up a few belongings. The photos of his daughter were the priority. He had no idea if he would ever get back to this desk again.

  Tim Marcia peeked over the half-wall from his cubicle.

  “Hey, Harry, can I have your parking spot till you get back?”

  It brought a smile.

  “Fuck you,” Bosch said to him.

  When he had everything packed in his briefcase and was ready to go, he looked back at Soto, who was sitting in her chair, staring at him.

  “This isn’t right,” she said.

  Bosch stepped over, leaned down, and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s not about what is right,” he said. “I’ll be fine. The thing you have to remember is that you are one hell of an investigator. You know the secret. So don’t let the fools around here drag you down. You have things to do, Lucy.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay,” she said. “I feel like crying.”

  “Don’t,” Bosch said. “Instead, take your summary report in there and close that case. Take about a day or two to savor it and then get back to work. There’s only ten thousand more cases waiting for you.”

  She nodded again and tried unsuccessfully to smile. Talking was going to be a problem for her.

  Bosch squeezed her shoulder and left her there. He grabbed his briefcase off his chair and walked toward the exit door. Before he got there, he heard someone clapping behind him. He turned back and saw it was Soto, standing by her desk.

  Soon Tim Marcia rose up from his cubicle and started to clap. Then Mitzi Roberts did the same and then the other detectives. Bosch put his back against the door, ready to push through. He nodded his thanks and held his fist up at chest level and shook it. He then went through the door and was gone.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The author wishes to thank several people who contributed to this novel in many, many ways.

  The detectives: Rick Jackson, Tim Marcia, Mitzi Roberts.

  The editors: Asya Muchnick, Bill Massey, Pamela Marshall.

  The researcher: Dennis “Cisco” Wojciechowski.

  The family: Linda Connelly, McCaleb Connelly, all the Connellys.

  The readers: Terrill Lee Lankford, Henrik Bastin, John Houghton.

  The support team: Heather Rizzo, Jane Davis, Mary Mercer, Sue Lillich.

  The publisher: the many people at Hachette Book Group who worked so hard on this and the many other books before it.

  The author couldn’t do it without you.

  Cheers to all.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michael Connelly is the author of twenty-six previous novels, including the #1 New York Times bestsellers The Gods of Guilt and The Black Box. His books, which include the bestselling Harry Bosch series and Lincoln Lawyer series, have sold more than fifty-eight million copies worldwide. Connelly is a former newspaper reporter who has won numerous awards for his journalism and his novels and is the executive producer of the forthcoming series Bosch, starring Titus Welliver. He spends his time in California and Florida.