The Drop

38

It took the three teams of detectives assigned to the photographic and video evidence two hours to package all the materials from the second bedroom closet into evidence boxes. As if in a solemn funeral procession three unmarked cars then transported the boxes north to Los Angeles and the PAB. Bosch and Chu were in the last car, three boxes of still photos on the rear seat. There was little to talk about as they drove. They had a grim duty ahead of them and thoughts of preparing for it were all-consuming.

The media relations office had tipped the media to the arrival of the procession and as the detectives carried their boxes into the police headquarters, they were documented by photographers and videographers lined up outside the building’s entrance. This was not done simply to appease the media. Rather, it was part of what would be an ongoing effort to use the media to hammer home with the public — and the local jury pool — that Chilton Hardy was guilty of ghastly deeds. It was part of the subtle complicity that would always exist between the police and the media.

All three of the meeting rooms had been assigned to what was being known as the Hardy Task Force. Bosch and Chu took the smallest room because it did not have video equipment. They were going to sort through still photographs and didn’t need it.

Hardy had shown no apparent rhyme or reason in his cataloguing of the photos. Old and new, the photographs were tossed into several shoeboxes and placed on the shelves of the closet. There was no writing on the front or back of any of them. Several photos were taken of the same individuals but these might be spread across two or three different shoe boxes.

As Bosch and Chu began to go through them, they attempted to group the photos in a variety of ways. First and foremost they tried to put all photos of the same individual together. They then tried to estimate the age of the photos and organize them chronologically. Some of the photos had date stamps on them and these were helpful, though there was no way of knowing if the camera used had been set with the proper date.

In most of the photos the individual who was depicted alone or with Hardy or with a man’s body assumed to be Hardy’s was clearly alive in the photograph. He or she was either engaged in a sex act or in some cases smiling directly at the camera. In other cases the depiction was of a person looking in fear and sometimes pain at the camera.

Photos that had individual identifiers were placed in a priority category. These were victims who wore distinctive jewelry or had tattoos or facial moles. These markers would help the investigators seek identities later in the investigation.

Bosch could feel his insides being hollowed by the process. The eyes of the victims were the most difficult. So many of them looked at the camera with eyes showing that they knew they were not going to live. It tapped into a deep well of helpless rage in Bosch. For years Hardy had cut a bloody trail across the landscape and no one had seen it. Now they were left to make piles out of photographs.

At one point there was a knock on the door and Teddy Baker came in, holding a file.

“I thought you might want to see this,” she said. “They took it at MDC during booking.”

She opened the file and put an 8 × 10 photo down on the table. It depicted a man’s back. Spread from shoulder blade to shoulder blade was a depiction of a cemetery with black crosses across the landscape. Some of the crosses were old and faded, the ink having spread with the skin. Some of the crosses were sharply drawn and looked new. In a black script beneath the image were the words Bene Decessit.

Bosch had seen RIP tattoos before, but usually they were on gangbangers trying to keep track of the body counts of their own homies. This was new and yet not surprising. It also didn’t come as a surprise that Hardy had found a tattoo artist who apparently didn’t think the cemetery image was suspicious enough to contact authorities.

“That’s your boy,” Baker said.

“And did you count the crosses?” Bosch asked.

“Yeah. There’s thirty-seven of them.”

Bosch had not told her or the others that Hardy had said his number was thirty-seven. He had only told Kiz Rider that. He ran his finger below the words on Hardy’s back.

“Yeah,” Baker said. “We Googled it. It’s Latin. Means ‘died well.’ Like they all died well.”

Bosch nodded.

“Sweet,” Chu said. “The guy’s fucked up.”

“Can we put the photo in the package?” Bosch asked.

“It’s all yours.”

Bosch put the photo to the side of the table. He would include it in the charging package he would take to the DA.

“Okay. Thanks, Teddy,” he said.

He was dismissing her. He wanted to get back to the photo work. He needed to find Lily.

“Do you guys need some help?” Baker said. “Gandle didn’t give us a piece of anything. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.”

She and Kehoe had been driving Hardy to the MDC for booking when Gandle had given out assignments. It was quickly becoming the kind of case everyone wanted a part of.

“I think we got this, Teddy,” Bosch said quickly before his partner could tell her to join them. “Maybe the others could use a hand with the videos.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll check with them.”

Bosch interpreted her tone to mean that she thought he was being a selfish prick. She went to the door but then turned back to them.

“You know what’s weird so far?” she asked.

“What’s weird?” Bosch responded.

“No bodies. There’s DNA in that town house. But where are all the bodies? Where did he hide them?”

“Some were found,” Bosch said. “Like Lily Price. Others he hid. That’s his last chit. By the time we’re finished with this, that’s all Hardy will have left to trade. He gives up the bodies, we give up the death penalty.”

“Think the DA will go for it?”

“I hope not.”

She left the room then and Bosch got back to work with the photos.

“Harry, what’s up?” Chu said. “We’ve got about a thousand photos still to look through.”

“I know that,” Bosch said.

“So, why couldn’t we use her? She and Kehoe are part of OU. They’re just looking for something to do.”

“I don’t know. I just think that if Lily Price is in here somewhere, then we should find her. Know what I mean?”

“I guess so.”

Bosch relented.

“Go get her. Bring her back.”

“No, that’s okay. I understand.”

They went back to work, silently looking and sorting and stacking. Such a grim duty and so many victims. If not of murder or rape, then of Hardy’s manipulations and inhumanity. Bosch had to admit to himself that it was another reason he didn’t want to bring Teddy Baker in. It didn’t matter that she was a veteran investigator who had seen everything there was to see on the underside of life. And it didn’t matter that Hardy was a predator who targeted weakness, whether the victim be male or female. Bosch would never be comfortable viewing the photos in the company of a woman. It was just the way he was.

Only twenty minutes later Bosch saw Chu stop his routine motion of checking a photo and then holding it up over his head while considering the stack he would place it on. He looked over. Chu was studying a Polaroid.

“Harry, I think. .”

Bosch took the photo from him and looked at it. It was a shot of a young girl lying naked on a dirty blanket. Her eyes were closed and it was impossible to determine if she was alive or dead. The photo had faded over time. Bosch held it next to the yearbook photo of the smiling face of Lily Price, taken eighteen months before her death.

“You think?” Chu asked.

Bosch didn’t answer. He kept shifting his eyes from photo to photo, studying them and making minute comparisons. Chu handed him a magnifying glass he had brought from the cubicle but neither had used. Bosch put both photos down on the table and compared them under magnification. Finally he nodded and answered.

“I think you found her. We take this over to photo for digital analysis and see what they say.”

Chu pounded his fist on the table.

“We got this guy, Harry. We got him!”

Bosch put the magnifier down on the table and leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think we do.”

He then leaned forward and pointed to the stacks of photos that still had not been checked.

“Let’s keep going,” he said.

“You think there’s more?” Chu asked.

“Who knows? Maybe. But there’s also another one we should try to find.”

“Who?”

“Clayton Pell. He said Hardy took his picture, too. If he saved it, then it should be in here.”