Next to the cot there was a short stool used for sitting on while working on a motorcycle engine.
“You’re back.”
“Technically, I never left. How is she?”
“It was a good night — no bumps. She’s been awake now for about an hour and is starting to hit the wall. So you should go in the room and talk to her before she starts chewing her fingernails off.”
“Right.”
Cisco got up to move the cot out of the way.
“Take the stool. Be on her level when you talk.”
Bosch grabbed the stool, turned the lock on the door, and entered the room.
Elizabeth was in a sitting position on her cot, leaning back against the wall, arms folded in front of her chest, showing the early stages of need. She leaned forward when she saw Bosch enter.
“You,” she said. “I thought it was you last night.”
“Yeah, me,” he said.
He put the stool down four feet from the cot and sat down.
“Elizabeth, my name’s Harry. My real name, that is.”
“What the fuck is this? Am I in jail again? Are you a narc?”
“No, you’re not in jail and I’m not a narc. But you can’t leave yet.”
“What are you talking about? I need to go.”
She made a move to get up but Bosch shot up off the stool and put his hands out, ready to push her back down on the cot. She stopped.
“What are you doing to me?”
“I’m trying to help you. You remember what you said to me when I got on the plane the first time? You said, ‘Welcome to hell.’ Well, all of that is gone now. The Russians, the camp down there, the planes, everything. All shut down, the Russians are dead. But you’re still in hell, Elizabeth.”
“I really need to go now.”
“Where? Chemical Ali’s gone. He was shut down last night. There’s nowhere to go. But we can help you here.”
“What do you have? I need it.”
“No, not like that. I mean, really help you. Get you off this addiction and out of this life.”
She shrieked with laughter, a short staccato burst.
“You think you can save me? You think you’re the only one who’s ever tried? Forget it. Fuck you. I can’t be saved. I told you before. I don’t want to be saved.”
“I think you do. Deep down, everybody does.”
“No, please. Just let me go.”
“I know it’s going to be rough. A week in this room, it will probably feel like a year. I’m not going to lie to you about anything.”
Elizabeth raised her hands to her face and started crying. Bosch couldn’t tell whether it was a last-ditch effort to use his sympathy to get out of the room or whether the tears were truly for herself and what she knew lay ahead. Bosch didn’t want her to leave the room but he needed to get her to acknowledge and approve of what was happening.
“There’s a guy sitting outside the door who is here for you. His name’s Cisco. He’s been where you are.”
“Please, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. But you’ve got to want it. Deep down. You have to know that you are in the abyss and that you want to climb out.”
“No,” she moaned.
Bosch now knew the tears were real. Between her fingers he could see true fear in her eyes.
“Has any doctor ever put you on Suboxone? It helps. You still carry the weight of withdrawal, but it helps.”
She shook her head and was back to holding her arms tightly across her chest.
“It will help you. But you have to gut it out and you’ve got to want to.”
“I’m telling you, nothing works. I can’t be saved.”
“Look, I know you lost somebody. You’ve got it written on your skin. I know it can drive you down into a hole. But think of Daisy. Is this the end she would want for you?”
Elizabeth didn’t answer. She brought a hand up to cover her eyes again while she cried.
“Of course it’s not,” Bosch said. “It’s not what she would want.”
“Please,” Elizabeth said. “I want to go now.”
“Elizabeth, just tell me you want this to end. Give me the nod and we’ll get through it.”
“I don’t even know you!” she screamed.
“You’re right,” Bosch said, his voice remaining calm. “But I know there is something better than this for you. Tell me you want it. For Daisy.”
“I want to go.”
“There’s nowhere to go. This is it.”
“Fuck.”
“Stay here, Elizabeth. Say you want to try.”
She stopped hiding behind her hand and dropped it lifelessly into her lap. She looked away from him to her right.
“Come on,” Bosch said. “For Daisy. It’s time.”
Clayton closed her eyes and held them closed as she spoke.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try.”
34
Bosch got to his breakfast meeting fifteen minutes late. Haller was in a booth near the back of the restaurant. Bosch slid in across from him, wondering if he could stomach any food. He decided not.
“You’re late and you look like shit,” Haller said.
“Thanks,” Bosch said. “Let’s just say the past seventy-two hours haven’t been the best of my life.”
“Then, good news, my brother. We’re here to plot your rise from the ashes.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“You know, a lot has happened in the past seventy-two hours. I wish I had Cisco here to talk about his end of it, but he seems to be off the grid.”
“You can’t fill me in?”
“Of course I can. The main thing is, we have a strong lineup of testimony for Wednesday, as long as we can get our foot in the door. That’ll be the key. The D.A. and Cronyn are going to argue like hell to exclude us from the hearing, but I think we have a strong argument for standing. So I need you to practice your outrage.”
“I don’t need to practice it. And Borders will be there?”
“The judge issued a transfer order. He’s probably coming down in a van as we sit here.”
“Yeah, well, if he’s there and that close to freedom, then I’ll have all the outrage you need.”
Haller nodded. That’s what he wanted to hear.
“Now, as upsetting as that article in the Times was, it’s going to work in our favor,” the lawyer said. “Because that kicks this thing out into the open, and the state’s not going to be able to argue that your professional reputation hasn’t taken a big hit. It’s clear as day, right there in black and white.”
“Good,” Bosch said. “I’m glad that’s backfiring on that asshole Kennedy.”
“Right. Now, we have to be ready for all eventualities. After I make my argument, the judge might want to question you back in chambers. The story yesterday guarantees full media coverage of this, so the judge may want to take you back and hear your side of it before he puts it out in front of the media. You have a problem with that?”
“No, none.”
The waitress came to the table and Bosch ordered coffee. Haller ordered a short stack of pancakes and the waitress left them alone.
“You don’t want to eat?” Haller asked.
“No, not now,” Bosch said. “So what about Spencer, the counter guy? Where’s that gone since I’ve been out of the loop?”
“We put a solid buzz in his ear last night.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I had him hit with a subpoena. It freaked him the fuck out because he didn’t know we were onto where they were hiding his ass.”
“Okay, back up. I’ve been out of the loop since Thursday, you remember? Last I heard, Cisco was on him and saw him meet with Cronyn’s wife in the bookstore parking lot. What happened after that?”
“The next morning, I put Cisco back on him. Cronyn and Cronyn obviously suspected you were up to something and not going to take this lying down. So they tried to stash Spencer until after the hearing so we wouldn’t have him. But fuck that, Cisco and his guys already had him and followed him to the stash house they set up down in Laguna. It was their own weekend house. You should’ve seen the look on Spencer’s face when he got the subpoena.”