“No worries. I’m not saying anything. Why don’t you two have a detective car?”
“The one we were assigned, the heat doesn’t work. So we took mine. You cold? You must be cold.”
She put the key in the ignition and turned it to the accessory setting. The dashboard lights came on and she reached for the heat control.
“Let me know if you want more heat.”
“I’m fine. Let’s get this over with. I have an early start tomorrow.”
Ballard checked Bosch again through the windshield. He had his arms crossed and his head down, adopting the posture of a guy who was tired of these routine interviews. Hoyle turned and looked out the window at his front door, as though reminding himself that he had to get back through it before this was over. Ballard used the moment to lean forward and reach under the dashboard to turn on the car’s audio/video system. The car was equipped with three hidden cameras and microphones for recording undercover drug buys. It would now capture everything that was said or done in the car from that moment on, putting it all on a chip in a recorder located in the trunk.
“Okay, I have to start by giving you the standard rights warning,” she said. “The department requires it of every interview, even if someone is not a suspect, because of adverse court rulings that—”
“Look, I don’t know,” Hoyle said. “You said you just wanted to talk, now you’re giving me my rights? That’s not—”
“Okay, listen, I’m just going to give you the rights warning and ask if you understand them. At that point, you have a choice: talk to me, don’t talk to me, and we go from there.”
Hoyle shook his head and put his hand on the door handle. Ballard knew she was about to lose him.
She hit the button that lowered her window. She called to Bosch, who came around the car. She grabbed the rover from the center console and held it out to him.
“We may need a car for a custody transport,” she said. “Can you deal with that?”
“Got it,” Bosch said.
He reached for the radio.
“Wait, wait,” Hoyle said. “Jesus Christ, okay, read me my rights. I’ll talk, let’s just get this over with.”
Ballard withdrew the radio and Bosch nodded. It was going about how they thought it would.
She put the window up and turned to Hoyle. From memory she gave him the Miranda warning and he acknowledged that he understood his rights and was agreeing to talk to her.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s talk.”
“Ask your questions,” Hoyle said.
“After you saw us at the memorial service yesterday, who did you call?”
“Call? I didn’t call anyone. I drove home.”
“I gave you my card. I need to know who you told about me.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t tell anyone.”
Hoyle had raised his voice enough for Bosch to hear it. He looked over his shoulder at Ballard through the windshield. She nodded slightly. Bosch pulled his phone and started making a call. He pushed off the front fender and walked to the front of the car while waiting for a connection.
“Who’s he calling?” Hoyle asked.
“I don’t know,” Ballard said. “But you need to think carefully here, Dr. Hoyle.”
Ballard paused and watched Bosch. He held his phone to his ear for a few moments, then took it down and ended the call. Ballard glanced over at the phone still in Hoyle’s hand. Its screen was dark. Hoyle had not sent the “Report” text to Bonner — at least not on the phone he was holding. Ballard now had to wonder who had sent it.
“Think carefully about what?” Hoyle said.
“This is one of the moments when the decision you make will affect the rest of your life,” Ballard said.
Hoyle turned toward the door and again reached for the handle.
“Now you’re scaring me. I’m getting out.”
“You get out, and the next time you see me will be when I kick down your door with a warrant and drag you out of there in front of your neighbors.”
Hoyle turned back to her.
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want. Who did you call after we met at the memorial?”
“Nobody!”
Ballard started reaching into the backseat of the car.
“I want you to look at something, Doctor.”
She pulled two thick files off the backseat floor and onto her lap.
“I want you to know we’ve been onto you since Albert Lee and John William James.”
“Onto what?”
“Onto everything. The factoring, the insurance fraud, the company you and your friends made, the murders...”
“Oh my god, this can’t be happening.”
“It is. And that’s why you have to make a choice here. Help or hinder. Because if you can’t help me, I’m going to the next partner. If he doesn’t help, I go to the next. Somebody’s going to be smart or get smart. And then it will be too late for the others. I only need to put one insider in front of the grand jury. I thought it was going to be you, but it doesn’t matter.”
Hoyle leaned forward and for a moment Ballard thought he was going to vomit onto the floor in front of his seat. But then he pulled back, eyes closed, misery all over his face.
“This is all Jason’s fault,” he said. “I should have never...”
“Jason Abbott?” Ballard asked.
“No, I’m not saying another word until you promise to protect me. He’ll send his guy after me!”
“We can protect you. But right now you need to give me what I need. Who did you tell about me after the memorial? That is question one.”
“All right, all right. I told Jason. I said the cops had cornered me, and he yelled at me for even going to that thing in the first place.”
“Do you know who Christopher Bonner is?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Who found the people you and the others would loan money to?”
“Jason had somebody. I never got involved.”
“You didn’t know he was going to have them—”
“No! Never. I didn’t know any of that until he did it. And then it was too late. I looked guilty. We all did.”
“So you just went along with it.”
“I didn’t have a choice. Don’t you see? I didn’t want to get killed. Look what happened to J.W.”
“John William James.”
“Yes. He said ‘no more’ to Jason, and look what happened to him.”
“What about his wife? Was she part of this?”
“No, no, no — she doesn’t know anything.”
“How many were there?”
“How many what?”
“You know what I’m asking. How many times did the factoring lead to somebody dying?”
Hoyle bowed his head in shame and closed his eyes.
“If you lie to me one time, I will no longer help you,” Ballard said.
“There were six,” Hoyle said. “No, seven. Javier Raffa was number seven.”
“Including James?”
“Yes. Yes.”
Ballard looked through the windshield at Bosch. He had been watching them, seeing but not hearing Hoyle talk. They locked eyes and Ballard nodded. She had gotten what she needed. Hoyle was on video.
“Go back inside now, Doctor,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone about this. If you do, I’ll know and I’ll bury you.”
“Okay,” Hoyle said. “But what do I do now?”
“You just wait. You’ll hear from a detective named Bettany. Ross Bettany. He’ll tell you what to do.”
“Okay.”
“You can get out now.”
34
Bosch had brought a thermos of coffee with him. When Ballard had picked him up, he came out with the thermos and two to-go cups. Ballard had told him they weren’t going to a stakeout, but he’d said, you never know.