“So that means... the judge is definitely our guy?” Hatteras said.
Masser nodded. “Looks like it,” he said.
“But we stick with protocol,” Ballard said. “We wait for the DNA confirmation.”
“And we should have that by Friday,” Masser said.
“Then we make our move,” Ballard said.
They fell into a solemn silence for a long moment, the gravity of knowing they were going after a superior court judge weighing on them. Masser finally broke the silence, but only to add more weight to their thoughts.
“The repercussions will be massive,” he said. “Any case he ruled on will be vulnerable to appeal. I guess it’s lucky he’s always been on the civil side. But still, the appeals that come out of this will clog things up for years.”
“That’s not our concern,” Ballard said. “If he’s the guy, he’s the guy, and we take him down.”
“Absolutely,” Masser said.
Hatteras cleared her throat to draw Ballard’s attention.
“What is it, Colleen?”
“Well, one thing you should know is that I’ve been building a heritage pattern using—”
“You mean a family tree?”
“Yes, the genetic tree, starting with the DNA sequence we got from Darcy.”
“Nicholas’s DNA.”
“Right. And what’s strange is that I’m not connecting anything to the judge so far.”
“What are you saying? We might be barking up the wrong family tree?”
“Funny, but yes, something doesn’t fit. I feel like I should be making connections, and so far they’re not there.”
“Well, keep at it, Colleen. It will probably be Friday before we know anything for sure about the DNA.”
“Okay, boss.”
“And don’t call me that.”
“Okay, Renée.”
“Better.”
Hatteras dropped down behind the partition to go back to work, and Masser went to his module as well. Ballard looked at the info she had written down during the call with Beltran.
She opened up the DMV link and typed in Dean Delsey’s name and DOB. She knew she was creating a DMV search record that could be found should her off-the-books investigation blow up in her face. Unlike the crime report searches she’d conducted during the night, the department assiduously monitored DMV searches because of past abuses involving officers taking cash to conduct such searches for private investigators and lawyers. But Delsey was Ballard’s only lead at the moment and she was willing to risk it. She felt confident that should she be questioned, she’d be able to come up with an adequate cover story.
The address Delsey had on his driver’s license was on Park Court right off Speedway in Venice. That fit the profile she was building in her mind for the people who had ripped her off. Delsey was a small-time criminal living close to the beach and the surfing culture he was preying on. The photo on his driver’s license supported this as well. He was white, with the sun-bleached hair and ruddy complexion of a surfer.
The fact that Delsey’s fingerprints were on a can that was found in a small clearing on a bluff overlooking a prime surfing beach was evidence of nothing. But Ballard instinctively believed she was closing in on her target.
She thought of something and picked up the desk phone, then thought better of it and used her cell. This would be a test. She called Beltran’s direct line, and this time he picked up the call from her cell immediately.
“Hey, Detective, I think we got cut off before.”
“No, actually, I hung up.”
“Oh. Did you already talk to the director?”
“No, not yet. I’ll do it later. But I forgot to ask before — did you figure out what was in the Red Bull can?”
“Yes, I was just writing up the report for you. There were two cigarette butts and the tip of a cannabis joint. I preserved it all. You need me to pack it all up and send it over to genetics?”
“No, just hold everything there and I’ll be by at some point to grab it.”
“I’ll have it here when you need it.”
“Thanks, Rico.”
She disconnected. She wasn’t sure whether she preferred the old resentful Rico or the new obsequious Rico, but confirming that there was a joint in the Red Bull can was helpful intel for when she confronted Delsey.
“Paul?” she called without looking over the wall.
Masser appeared above the partition. “Yes?”
“Thanks for everything this morning. Can you mind the store for a while? I’m going to run an errand.”
“Not a problem. I want to do more legal vetting on Judge Purcell.”
“Meaning what?”
“You know, look at the trials he’s handled, how he’s ruled. I mean, I’m fascinated. What a double life — assuming he’s our guy. You know he was appointed to the bench the same year Pillowcase went inactive on the rapes?”
“Yeah, I saw that.”
“Anyway, I want to know everything there is to know about him.”
“Good. When you’re ready, we’ll do an all-hands meeting to talk about what you got.”
“Good by me.”
Ballard stood up. “Okay, I’ll be back.”
She was about to step away when the desk phone buzzed. She reached down and answered it. “Open-Unsolved.”
“Landry at the front desk. You’ve got a visitor. An Officer Bosch.”
Ballard froze for a moment.
“A female Bosch?” she asked.
“Female,” Landry confirmed. “Madeline Bosch. Should I send her back?”
“Uh, no, I’ll come out.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Ballard disconnected and for a moment just stared at the phone.
“What is it?” Hatteras said. She’d stood up again. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Ballard shook her head. “No, I’m fine,” Ballard said.
She walked away toward the entrance to the unit, trepidation building with every step. Once she exited, she walked down the long central hallway of the complex to the front, where there was a reception desk and a row of chairs. The Ahmanson Center was the LAPD’s main training center, and most days many of those chairs were occupied by applicants who wanted to wear the badge.
Maddie Bosch was there in street clothes. There appeared to be no stress or sadness on her face.
“Maddie, is Harry all right?” Ballard asked.
Maddie stood up. “Uh, yeah, as far as I know,” she said. “I haven’t talked to him in a couple of days. Did you hear something?”
“No,” Ballard said. “I just thought that if you came to see me in person, there might be something—”
“No. Sorry if I scared you — that’s not why I’m here. As far as I know, Dad’s fine. He’s Harry.”
“Okay, good.”
Harry Bosch had been a mentor of sorts to Ballard and had worked with the Open-Unsolved Unit at its start. He was now battling cancer and Ballard had not gotten an update recently.
“I’m here because I want to volunteer,” Maddie said.
Ballard was not expecting that. “What, you mean for the unit?” she asked.
“Yes, the unit,” Maddie said. “I’m on a four-on-three-off schedule at Hollywood Division, and they have me working PM watch Friday to Monday. It gives me a lot of free time during the week and I thought this might be good, you know? I want to be a detective one day and this can give me some experience.”
“Did you talk to Harry about it?”
“No. Harry’s retired and I make my own decisions.”
“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”