The Crossing

50

Mendenhall drove her company car toward Hollywood. Bosch judged that there had been a purpose beyond courtesy to her offering to give him a ride. After telling her he lived in the Cahuenga Pass, he got down to business, turning in his seat to look at her. She was a brunette with dark eyes and smooth skin. Bosch put her at late forties. Looking at her hands on the wheel, he saw no rings. He remembered that from Modesto. No rings.

“So, how come you ended up with this mess?” he asked.

“I would say it’s because of my familiarity with you. Your last interaction with IA is in litigation, so that created a conflict of interest with O’Dell. I was next on the list because of Modesto.”

Bosch’s lawsuit against the department for unfair labor practices named IAD investigator Martin O’Dell as a defendant along with several others involved in his being forced to retire. A few years before, Bosch had worked a case in which Mendenhall had trailed him to Modesto on suspicion that he was acting outside the policies of the department. She ended up helping him escape from captors who intended to kill him and clearing him of any departmental wrongdoing. The episode left Bosch with something he had never known before — respect for an Internal Affairs investigator. There had been a connection between them in Modesto. But because at the time he was the subject of an investigation being conducted by her, Bosch never did anything about it.

“Let me ask you something,” he said.

“You can ask me anything, Harry,” she said. “But I’m not promising to answer. Some things I can’t talk about. But just like before, you be straight with me, I’ll be straight with you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Which way should I go, Laurel Canyon up to Mulholland or down to Highland and then up?”

“Uh, I’d take Laurel Canyon.”

His suggested route would take longer than the other choice. He hoped to be able to use the extra time to draw more information out of her.

“So, did Ellington tell you ahead of time to give me a ride? Maybe get me to talk outside the room?”

“No, it was just spur of the moment. You needed a ride. I offered. If you want to tell more, I’ll certainly listen.”

“There is something more, but let me ask a few questions first. Let’s start with Ellis and Long. Big surprise today in IAD, or were they a known quantity?”

“Well, you really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“They’re bad cops. You guys go after bad cops. I’m just wondering if they were already on the radar.”

“I can’t go into specifics, but, yes, they were on the radar. The thing is, we’re not even remotely talking about the level of action we are looking at today. It involved use of time complaints, insubordination. But usually when you have those things happening, they’re indicators of bigger problems.”

“So no external complaints. All department bred.”

“No, none.”

“What about Long? Is he going to make it?”

“He’ll recover.”

“Is he talking?”

“Last I heard, not yet.”

“And nobody’s got a line on Ellis?”

“Not yet, but not for lack of trying. It’s a Sheriff’s Department op, but we’re all over it. RHD, Major Crimes, Fugitives — they don’t want this to blow up into another Dorner. They want a quick end to it.”

Christopher Dorner was an ex-LAPD cop who went on a killing rampage a couple years before. A massive manhunt ended at a cabin near Big Bear where he killed himself during a firefight with officers who had surrounded the location. His notoriety was such that within the department his last name had become a noun applied to any officer controversy or scandal involving crazy and deadly behavior.

“So, the big question,” Bosch said, “is whether there’s a case? Are they going to be charged?”

“That’s actually two big questions,” Mendenhall said. “The answers, as far as I’m concerned, are yes and yes. But it’s a Sheriff’s case. You never know. We will be looking into anything on our turf, which includes James Allen and whatever else those two had going.”

Bosch nodded and let some more asphalt go under the car before responding.

“So you want my coaching tip on Allen?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said.

“Check out the UC car lot behind the Hollywood Athletic Club. On the back row against the wall is a burnt-orange Camaro that’s been taken out of circulation.”

“Okay.”

“I’m pretty sure Ellis and Long were using it back in March when Allen got dumped in that alley.”

“The trunk?”

Bosch nodded.

“I’ll order a full forensic workup,” she said.

“You get something, send a copy of the report to that asshole Cornell.”

Bosch could see Mendenhall smile in the glow from the dash lights. They drove in silence for a while. She made the turn onto Mulholland and started east. When she spoke, it had nothing to do with the case at hand.

“Harry, I’m curious. Why didn’t you call me after Modesto?”

Bosch was caught off guard.

“That’s a curve ball,” he managed to say while trying to formulate an answer.

“Sorry, I was just thinking out loud,” she said. “It’s just that I thought we had a connection when we were up there. Modesto. I thought you might call.”

“Well, I just thought... you know, that with you being in IAD and me being investigated, it would have been uncool to follow up on anything. That could end up with you being the one investigated.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. Bosch looked over at her and couldn’t read her reaction.

“Forget it,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked that. Very unprofessional. Keep asking your questions.”

Bosch nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, what is the current thinking on Ellis and his whereabouts?”

“The current thinking is Mexico,” she said. “He probably had a getaway package ready to go. Car, money, probably multiple IDs. He lived alone and it looks like he never went back after he left Schubert’s office.”

“He’s in the wind.”

She nodded.

“He could be anywhere.”