He went down the steps to search the first level but spotted the woman from Cisco’s photograph in line at the register, holding a stack of books. Bosch indiscriminately grabbed a book off a bestsellers’ table and got into the checkout line behind Madison Landon.
When he got there, he read the spines of the books she was holding in both hands. They were all books about raising a child. Landon did not appear to be pregnant but judging from the titles, it looked like she was getting ready for motherhood. One of the books was Raising Your Child Alone.
“I raised a child alone,” Bosch said.
Landon turned to look at him. She smiled but not in a way that invited further comment on her reading choices.
“When she was a teenager,” Bosch said. “It’s a tough job.”
She looked at him again.
“And how did she turn out?” she asked.
“Pretty great,” Bosch said. “She went into law enforcement.”
“Then you must worry about her.”
“All the time.”
Landon’s eyes dropped to the book Bosch was holding.
“I loved that book,” she said.
Bosch looked down to see what he had grabbed. It was Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. He had never heard of it. He had not been in a bookstore since before the pandemic.
“I heard it was good,” he said. “I’ll give it a try and then give it to my daughter.”
“She’ll like it,” Landon said. “I’m not so sure about you.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s about three people but it’s also about developing video games and the creativity it involves.”
“Hmm. Well, sounds like something at least Maddie will like.”
He noticed that Landon smiled at the mention of the name but did not reveal that it was also her own name.
“Why don’t you go ahead of me,” she said. “I have a lot here and you just have the one.”
“You sure?” Bosch said. “I don’t mind—”
“No, go ahead, because I’m also going to ask them to order a book for me.”
“Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
She stepped back and he moved up in the queue just as the customer ahead finished her purchase and left. Bosch put the book down on the counter, and the cashier scanned it. He paid with cash. He turned back to Landon, held up the book, and said, “Thanks.”
“I hope she likes it,” Landon said.
Bosch exited and then took a position leaning against a wall by the stairs up to the parking lot. He opened the book he had just bought and started reading. A few minutes later, Landon came out of the store with a bag containing all her purchases. Bosch looked up from his book and Landon quickly turned away, probably thinking he was going to make an awkward attempt at some sort of pickup.
“You’re Maddy, right?” he said.
Landon stopped in her tracks at the foot of the stairs.
“What?” she said.
“Or is it Madison?” Bosch asked.
He pushed off the wall and closed the book.
“Who are you?” Landon said. “What do you want?”
“I’m a guy trying to get an innocent woman out of prison,” Bosch said. “So she can raise her child.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please leave me alone.” She turned back to the stairway.
“You know what and who I’m talking about,” Bosch said. “And why I can’t leave you alone.”
She stopped. Bosch watched her eyes dart around, looking for an escape route.
“Roberto Sanz,” he said. “You changed your name, moved away. I want to know why.”
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Landon said coldly.
“I understand that. But if you don’t talk to me, there will be a subpoena, and a judge will make you talk to me. Then it could go public. If you talk to me now, I can try to keep you out of it down the line. Your name, where you live — none of it should have to come out.”
She brought her free hand up and held it across her eyes.
“You’re putting me in danger,” she said. “Don’t you see that?”
“Danger from who?” Bosch asked.
“Them.”
Bosch was flying in the dark without instrumentation. He was simply following his instincts in what he had said so far. But Landon’s reactions here told him that he was clearly on the right path.
“The Cucos?” he asked. “Is that who you mean? We can protect you from them.”
The mere mention of the sheriff’s clique seemed to send a shudder through her body.
Bosch had been careful to keep his distance. But now he casually stepped closer.
“I can see to it that you have no part in what’s about to go down,” he said. “No one will ever know your new name or where you are. But you have to help me.”
“You found me,” Landon said. “They can find me.”
“They, whoever they are, won’t even know. This is just you and me. But you need to talk to me about the day Roberto got shot — what was going on, what he was into.”
“Have you talked to Agent MacIsaac?”
“Not yet. But I will. When I know more from you.”
Bosch didn’t recognize the name but he didn’t want to let Landon know that. It might undercut her confidence in the promise he had just made. But her calling MacIsaac an agent raised an immediate flag. It indicated that MacIsaac was a fed, which meant that any number of agencies in the federal sandbox could have been involved with Roberto Sanz. Even if Landon refused to cooperate, he now had a new lead to pursue.
“I have to think about this,” Landon said.
“Why?” Bosch said. “For how long?”
“Just give me today,” she said. “Give me a number and I’ll call you in the morning.”
Bosch knew better than to let a potential witness go off to think about things. Fears could multiply, legal advisers could be pulled into the decision. You never let a fish off the hook.
“Can we just talk now, off the record?” Bosch said. “I won’t record it. I won’t even take notes. I need to know about that day. A woman who may be innocent — a mother — is in prison. For her, every single day, every hour, is a nightmare. You knew Eric, her son. She needs to be with him to raise him right.”
“But I followed the case and she pleaded guilty,” Landon said. “Now she says she’s innocent?”
“She pleaded no contest to a reduced charge of manslaughter. Because she had to risk life imprisonment in a trial.”
Landon nodded as though she understood Lucinda Sanz’s plight.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this over with. Where?”
“We can sit in my car,” Bosch said. “Or yours. Or find a coffee shop to sit in.”
“My car. I don’t want to do this in public.”
“Then your car it is.”
16
Haller didn’t return the call until Bosch was driving up Woodrow Wilson to his house, where he planned to rest. The flow of adrenaline that had kicked in once Madison Landon started talking about the day Roberto Sanz was murdered had tapered off and left him exhausted. Before leaving the parking lot at Vroman’s, he had texted Cisco to thank him once again for finding Landon and then he’d put in the call to Haller. Forty minutes later, Bosch was almost home and ready to go horizontal for an hour or so, when Haller called back.
“Sorry, was in court. What’s up?”