Detry moved to the microphone. It was Sunday and a slow news day. That meant every seat in front of him was taken, and the raised stage in the back of the room was crowded with TV cameras on tripods and their operating crews.
Detry was tall and handsome. He wore a uniform instead of a suit with four stars on the collar; he was the image of LAPD pride and progressiveness. He was Black and from the city’s south side. He had said that as a teenager, he saw his community burn during the 1992 riots, and he had decided to join the LAPD instead of a gang. And now here he was, thirty years after earning the badge, leading the department that many believed had advanced little beyond those days of discord.
“I’m here today with good and bad news,” Detry began. “We have arrested a predator who struck fear into our community for many years. But we lost a good person during the investigation. Her loss is a reminder that to protect and serve this community, there are always dangers, and we must remain ever vigilant.”
He got down to business, identifying Andrew Bennett as the Pillowcase Rapist and the killer of Colleen Hatteras, a volunteer with the Open-Unsolved Unit. Detry said that Bennett was linked to Hatteras’s murder through ballistics and preliminary DNA results. He outlined how these connections were made and ended with the news that Detectives Goring and Dubose would present the case to the district attorney’s office in the morning.
Detry said he would take a few questions, but the overwhelming response from reporters were requests for someone to talk about the volunteer who had lost her life. Detry turned to his left and then to his right and signaled Ballard to the podium.
Ballard stepped forward and lowered the microphone.
“Colleen Hatteras was with us on the unit since we started two years ago,” she said. “She played a significant part in every case we worked, every case we cleared, including this one. Colleen’s work led to the identification of Andrew Bennett as our suspect and—”
“What went wrong?” a reporter interrupted.
Ballard looked down, composing an answer.
“Colleen did nothing wrong,” she said. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She didn’t bring it on herself.”
“Then why was she killed?” the reporter persisted.
“I take responsibility for that,” Ballard said. “It’s my unit and I didn’t do enough to safeguard my team. I mean, these are volunteers, and I should have been a better leader.”
“But how did this guy get to her?” the reporter asked, insistent. “Did she—”
“We don’t know,” Ballard said, forcefully cutting him off. “We don’t know yet.”
Ballard felt a hand touch her arm and saw the chief coming to her rescue. He gently moved her away from the microphone and took over.
“Those details as well as the rest of the evidence will become public when we go to trial,” Detry said. “For now, we’ve said what we can say at this time. With great sacrifice, a grave threat to the community has been removed by the diligent efforts of your police department. Thank you for being here and that’s all for today.”
As reporters shouted questions, the chief started ushering those behind the podium toward the door to the assembly room. Once they were all back there and the door was closed on the shouting, Detry turned to Ballard.
“Tell me this case isn’t going to crash and burn,” he said.
“Chief, it’s solid,” Ballard said. “He’s the guy. He confessed. And when we get the DNA back from the DOJ, it will be bulletproof.”
Gandle pushed his way past Laffont and Maddie Bosch to get close.
“We’ve got this, Chief,” he said.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Captain,” Detry said. “And Detective.”
The chief turned and headed to the door that led to his suite of offices.
“Ballard, I’ll be down in my office,” Gandle said. “Stop by.”
He said it in a tone that implied that the invite was not a suggestion but an order.
Ballard nodded. She turned to look for Goring and Dubose. The powers that be had decided that the West Bureau detectives would take the case to the DA’s office in the morning. This would allow them to tailor the presentation of evidence around Ballard’s questionable actions. Ballard did not object to the decision. It wasn’t her case. She would be a key witness for the prosecution, testifying before a judge and jury to what was said and done in the kitchen of the house on Sunset Ridge. Her credibility would be viciously challenged by Bennett and his lawyers, and she would be ready for it.
But Goring and Dubose had slipped out, and after Gandle left, Ballard was alone with her team. She turned and looked at their faces. All eyes were cast down. The victory was hollow.
“All right,” Ballard said. “Group hug.”
Everyone gathered around and locked arms. At first they were silent, heads bowed. Then Laffont spoke.
“To Colleen,” he said. “May she rest in peace.”
Epilogue: The Kula Lodge
Ballard’s phone started buzzing before sunrise. It was dark in her room but the glow from the phone’s screen helped reacquaint her with the lines of the cottage. She had been in a deep sleep after a long journey. Five hours on a plane followed by three hours in a rented Jeep bouncing along dark roads.
She grabbed her phone off the night table, checked the screen, and accepted the call. It was Maddie Bosch.
“Did you see the Times?” she asked.
“Uh, no, not yet,” Ballard said. “I’ve been sleeping.”
“Oh, shit. I forgot you’re three hours behind over there.”
“We used to say three hours, three thousand miles, and three decades behind. What’s in the Times?”
“They did a story on the Black Dahlia case. They laid the whole thing out. There’s going to be a shitstorm.”
“What does it say?”
“I’ll send you the link. It’s all about the DA not filing on our package.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? Maybe it will change Ernesto’s decision.”
“It names me. They’re going to think I leaked this.”
“Did you?”
“No way.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. They can’t prove it happened if it didn’t happen.”
“Was it you? Did you — no, wait, never mind, I don’t want to know.”
Ballard smiled; Maddie understood that it would be best for her not to have any further knowledge of the leak. Ballard swung her legs off the bed and sat up. The deal she’d made with Scott Anderson was that he had to mention prominently in the story that Officer Madeline Bosch was responsible for the break in the Black Dahlia case. Ballard had trusted him, and it appeared that he had made good on his promise.
“Who’s on the byline?” she asked, pretending she didn’t know.
“It’s that Scott Anderson,” Maddie said. “He’s the one who was asking all the questions at the press conference.”