The woman pushed her way through the door and past Bosch.
“Wait a minute,” he said.
“I’m going home,” the woman said.
She kept going toward the alley.
“We are closed,” the man said. “Her work is done today.”
Bosch looked at him.
“You’re Chemical Ali?”
“What?” the man exclaimed indignantly. “I am Dr. Rohat.”
He gestured toward a wall behind a reception counter, where there were several framed diplomas with writing too small to read.
Bosch couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that Clayton was in the clinic. Brody could have been waiting and watching for any frail-looking patient to rip off. But the intel from Edgar about Rohat’s proclivities made him feel like he was on firm ground.
“Elizabeth Clayton, where is she?” Bosch asked.
Rohat shook his head.
“I do not know that name,” he said.
“Sure you do,” Bosch said. “Is she in there?”
“There is no one here. We are closed.”
“Bullshit. You would’ve walked out with the nurse if you were done here. Do I have to go through this whole place? Where is she?”
“We are closed.”
The sound of something clattering to the floor came from behind the closed door behind the reception counter. Bosch immediately pushed by Rohat and headed toward the door, assuming it led to the rear offices and exam rooms.
“All right!” Rohat exclaimed. “I have a patient in room three. She is resting and should not be disturbed. She is sick.”
Bosch didn’t break stride. He went through the door, Rohat calling after him.
“Wait! You can’t go in there.”
There were no markings on any of the doors that lined the rear hallway. Bosch went to the third door on the left and flung it open. It was a storage room that looked like it was managed by a hoarder. There was junk piled upon junk. Bicycles, TVs, computer equipment. Bosch assumed these were the things Rohat took in trade for prescriptions and drugs. He left the door open and went across the hall to the door directly opposite.
Elizabeth Clayton was in the room. She was sitting on an examination table, a paper drape sheet wrapped around her shoulders and covering most of her body, her bare legs dangling off the table. On the floor was the source of the sound Bosch had heard. A stainless-steel cup lying in a pool of spilled water.
Clayton was naked beneath the drape sheet and one of her breasts was exposed, though she seemed unaware of it. The skin of her breast was a shocking white against her chest and neck, which had been burned dark brown by so many days spent in the desert sun. Her hair was bedraggled and she was in a daze. She did not even look up as Bosch entered. She was staring at the tattoo of the stars on her hand.
“Elizabeth!”
She slowly raised her chin as Bosch came to her. She dropped her hand into her lap, and her eyes held on his. He saw recognition in them but no understanding of where she knew him from.
“I’m going to take care of you. How much did he give you?”
He started to pull the sheet around her to cover her nakedness. Her body was emaciated and he wanted to look away but didn’t. She held one of her hands between her legs, not in a show of modesty but in what Bosch interpreted was a meager protective gesture.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “You remember me? I’m here to help.”
He got no response.
“Can you get up? Can you get dressed?”
Rohat came into the room behind him.
“You are not allowed in here! She is a patient and what you—”
“What did you give her?”
Bosch turned on him.
“I don’t discuss patient care with—”
Bosch lunged at him and drove him backward into the wall. Ali’s head banged against a print showing the vital organs of the human body. Bosch gripped the lapels of his white lab coat and pushed hard against him.
“You’re not a doctor, you’re a monster. And I don’t care how old you are, I will beat you to death in this room if you don’t answer my questions. How much did you give her?”
Bosch could see real fear in Rohat’s eyes now.
“I prescribed two eighty-milligram oxycodone pills for pain. It is time-release and to be taken separately, but when I was not in the room, she crushed and snorted them both. This tripped her into an overdose. It is not my fault.”
“Bullshit, not your fault. How long ago?”
“Two hours. I am treating her with naloxone and she’ll be fine, as you can see by her sitting up.”
“And what did you do to her while she was out? You fuck her, you piece of shit?”
“I did not.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that when I take her to the rape center.”
“We had sex before, yes. She agreed. It was completely consensual.”
“Fuck you, consensual. You’re going to go to jail.”
Bosch’s anger overcame him, and he swung Rohat away from the wall so that when he punched him he’d have the satisfaction of seeing Rohat’s head snap back before he dropped like a wet blanket. Bosch pulled his left arm back to deliver the blow. But before he brought his fist forward, there was a loud beep from the intercom box on the wall next to the door.
Bosch hesitated. That gave Rohat time to bring his hands up to block or at least slow down the coming impact.
“Please,” the doctor begged.
“Hey, I know you,” Elizabeth said.
Bosch dropped his left and used his right to shove Rohat toward the intercom.
“Tell them to get lost.”
Rohat pushed the intercom button.
“We are closed, sorry.”
He looked back at Bosch for approval. Then a voice Bosch recognized came through the intercom.
“Jerry Edgar, Medical Board of California. Open up.”
Bosch nodded. His old partner had come through.
“Go let him in,” he said.
33
Edgar came into the examination room as Bosch was helping Elizabeth get dressed.
“Harry, I saw your car out there. I thought maybe you needed help.”
“I do, partner. Help me get her dressed. I have to get her out of here.”
“We should call an ambulance or something. This is crazy.”
“Just hold her up. She’s coming out of it.”
Bosch was trying to pull her blue jeans up her rail-thin legs. He coaxed her into a standing position and then Edgar held her steady as Bosch brought the pants up over the bony points of her hips.
“I wanna leave,” she said.
“That’s exactly what we’re doing, Elizabeth,” Bosch said.
“He’s a mean motherfucker,” she said.
Bosch was about to agree and looked around the room.
“Hey, where’s Rohat?”
Edgar did the same quick survey. Rohat wasn’t in the room.
“I don’t—”
“I’ve got her. Go check.”
Edgar left the room. Bosch turned Elizabeth so her back was to him. He quickly reached down to the pale yellow jacket that was in the pile of her clothes on the floor. He held it around in front of her.
“Can you put this on? We’ll take the rest of your clothes with us.”
She took the jacket and slowly started to put one of her arms into a sleeve. Bosch gently pulled the paper sheet off her shoulders and dropped it to the floor. He saw the full RIP tattoo on the back of her shoulder.
DAISY
1994–2009
A fifteen-year-old girl, Bosch thought. That gave him a clue and an understanding that made him all the more resolved to stay on this path with Elizabeth.
Operating mechanically, Elizabeth managed to pull the jacket on but fumbled with the zipper. Bosch turned her around and zipped it up. He then gently pushed her back onto the exam table so he could put on her socks and shoes.