She grabbed the phone and headed for the evidence room, where her conversation would not be overheard.
“Hey,” she said on her way, purposely not saying his name.
“Can you talk?” Bosch asked.
“Yes. Let me just get to... hold on.”
She unlocked the room, entered, and closed the door behind her.
“Sorry — I can talk now,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Let me guess,” Bosch said. “Colleen was hanging around listening.”
“Well, your daughter’s here too and she hasn’t said anything about what happened Saturday, so I’m assuming you don’t want her to know.”
“Might not be able to prevent that now. I just heard from a reporter at the L.A. Times. That’s why I’m calling, to give you a heads-up that somebody in the FBI is leaking.”
“Damn. Who was the reporter?”
“Scott Anderson. I neither confirmed nor denied.”
“I saw that he wrote a couple of the initial stories. So he’s plugged in. What did he ask that you didn’t answer?”
“Somehow he knows I was the CI. He asked how I knew about these guys wanting to buy machine guns.”
“Ugh. Did he mention me?”
“No, but I didn’t give him a chance to. I no-commented and hung up on him. But even if he doesn’t know about you, if they run a story about me, there are people in the department who know that you and I are tight. So that’s the heads-up.”
“Okay, got it. I appreciate the call.”
“Let me know if you hear from him.”
“I will.”
“How’s Maddie doing? I thought she worked Mondays at Hollywood.”
“She’s doing really good. She does work Monday PMs, but she came in today and I didn’t even ask why. She’s going to be a good detective, Harry. You’re gonna be proud.”
“I already am.”
“Good. Talk to you later, then.”
Ballard disconnected and looked at her watch. She needed to leave for her appointment with Dr. Elingburg, but first she put in a call to Agent Olmstead.
“Ballard, how are you doing?”
“I’m good. You still basking in the glow of your domestic-terrorist takedown?”
“Well, you could say that the powers that be around here are my new best friends.”
“Good to hear. But what’s not good to hear is that the L.A. fucking Times is calling Harry Bosch about him being your undercover informant on the caper.”
There was a pause while Olmstead considered this news.
“When did this happen?” he asked.
“Today,” Ballard said.
“I hope he declined to comment.”
“Of course he did, but here’s the thing — his name should have never gotten to the media. He’s a confidential informant, for Chrissake, Gordon. If the Times comes out with a story, it could put him in danger. Who knows how many sympathizers and yahoos think that what Dehaven was planning was patriotic.”
“I know, I know. All I can tell you is that it wasn’t me and I’m going to jump on this and find out who the fuck it was.”
Ballard was not sure she believed him. It seemed to her that the feds always had ulterior motives. Her prior experiences with Olmstead made her think that he could be trusted, but if she was wrong about that, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“The other thing is that if your leak is giving me up too, you’re going to have a PR problem,” she said. “Because if I get named, I won’t hold back. I’ll tell the Times that I gave you this on a silver platter after I did the groundwork and ID’d Dehaven and his merry band of roaming terrorists. The powers that be won’t think you’re walking on water anymore when that comes out.”
There was another silence before Olmstead responded.
“Understood,” he finally said.
“Good,” Ballard said. “Let me know when you’ve shut it down.”
She disconnected without a goodbye to emphasize her anger over the situation. She called Harry Bosch back.
“I just read Olmstead the riot act. He might not care too much about you, but he is worried about keeping this as a big fat FBI and Gordon Olmstead win. All of that goes down the tubes if you and I get pulled into the media on it.”
“I knew you’d know how to handle it.”
“Well, hopefully he’ll take care of it.”
“You think there’s any chance he’s the leak?”
“I thought about that but it doesn’t make sense. Right now he’s a hero. If the whole truth comes out, he doesn’t look as good. It’s probably someone in that office who’s jealous of the attention he’s getting from this.”
“I think so too. But thanks for setting him right, Renée.”
“All in a day’s work.”
After disconnecting, Ballard checked her watch. She needed to get going. She noticed the old-style suitcase on the floor next to the file cabinet holding what was left of the Black Dahlia files. The suitcase, which contained Elizabeth Short’s clothes, had been found in a locker at the bus station in Hollywood several weeks after her murder in 1947. The locker’s rental time had expired and the janitor was cleaning it out. No one knew who had stored the suitcase there — it could have been Elizabeth or her killer.
Forensic analysts at the time had failed to find any fingerprints or other evidence on or in the case that might lead to a suspect. The suitcase and its contents had not been pilfered over the decades because the case was stored in the department’s secured evidence archive, whereas the file cabinet containing the investigative files was kept in the homicide unit offices, to which many people had access.
Seeing the suitcase gave Ballard an idea. She decided that she would follow up on it after the appointment with her therapist.
35
Ballard was five minutes late for her appointment with Dr. Elingburg. When she entered the waiting room, the door to the inner sanctum was already open, and she walked right in. Dr. Elingburg was in her usual spot on one of the couches. There were two glasses of water on the coffee table in front of her.
“Sorry I’m late,” Ballard said.
“Busy day?” Elingburg asked.
Ballard sat in her usual spot on the opposite couch. “Wasn’t supposed to be,” she said. “But, yeah, it got busy.”
“No holiday in the pursuit of justice,” Elingburg said.
“Something like that.”
“I see that you’re wearing a badge on your belt. Is that the badge that went missing or a replacement?”
“It’s the badge that was taken, yeah. A little worse for the wear, but I got it back.”
“Without your superiors finding out it had been stolen?”
“As of now they haven’t found out. But that could change. You never know.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t. Before we get started, is there anything you would like to discuss today?”
“Uh, not really. To be honest, I haven’t had a day off since our last session, so I haven’t really had time to think about therapy. But I’m here.”
Elingburg nodded and picked up the notebook she kept on the coffee table during their sessions. “Well, let’s go down our discussion list, then,” she said. “How has your sleep pattern been?”
“Uh, good and bad,” Ballard said. “I have the usual insomnia some nights and on others I’m so tired by the time I hit the pillow, it’s like I’m knocked out. But even after a few hours I’ll wake up and not be able to get back to sleep.”
“You told me once that you can hear the ocean from your bedroom. That doesn’t help?”
“In the winter, it’s too cold at night to keep a window open. So lately I don’t really hear the ocean.”