The Narrows - Michael Connelly [74]
“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” she said, leaving suspicion out of her voice. “I hope our little welcome wagon wasn’t too difficult for you today.”
“Nope. Comes with the territory.”
“I’m sure it does.”
“How did you find me?”
She stepped further into the room.
“You’re paying for this place with a credit card.”
Bosch nodded but didn’t seem surprised by the speed or questionable legality of her search for him. She moved on, nodding at the map book on the dinette table.
“Planning a little vacation there? I mean, now that you’re not working the case anymore.”
“A road trip, yeah.”
“Where to?”
“Not sure yet.”
She smiled and turned toward the open balcony door. She could see an expensive-looking black jet on the tarmac beyond the motel’s parking lot.
“According to your credit-card records you’ve been renting a place here for nearly nine months. On and off but mostly on.”
“Yeah, they give me the long-term discount. Comes out to like twenty bucks a day or something.”
“That’s probably too much.”
He turned and surveyed the place, as if for the first time.
“Yeah.”
They were both still standing. Rachel knew he didn’t want her to sit down or stay because of the visitor he was expecting. So she decided to push things. She sat down without being asked on the threadbare couch.
“Why have you had this place for nine months?” she asked.
He pulled a chair away from the dinette and brought it over and sat down.
“It’s got nothing to do with this, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, I didn’t think it did. I’m just curious, that’s all. You don’t look like a gambler to me—I mean, not with money. And this looks like a place for hard-core types.”
He nodded.
“It is. That and people with other addictions. I’m here because my daughter lives out here. With her mother. I’ve been trying to get to know her. I guess she’s my addiction.”
“How old is she?”
“She’ll be six soon.”
“That’s nice. Her mother being Eleanor Wish, the former FBI agent?”
“That’s her. What can I do for you, Agent Walling?”
She smiled. She liked Bosch. He got to the point. He apparently didn’t let anybody or anything intimidate him. She wondered where that came from. Was it from carrying a badge or carrying other baggage?
“You can call me Rachel for starters. But I think it’s more like what can I do for you. You wanted me to contact you, didn’t you?”
He laughed but not with any humor attached to it.
“What are you talking about?”
“The interview. The looks, the nods and smiles, all that. You chose me as sort of a pen pal in there. Tried to connect. Tried to even it up, turn it from three against one to a game of two on two.”
Bosch shrugged and looked out the balcony.
“That was just sort of a shot in the dark. I . . . I don’t know, I just sort of thought you weren’t getting a fair shake there, that’s all. And I guess I know what that’s like.”
“It’s been eight years since I got a fair shake from the bureau.”
He looked back at her.
“All because of Backus?”
“That and other things. I made some mistakes and the bureau never forgets.”
“I know what that is like, too.”
He stood up.
“I’m having a beer,” he said. “Do you want one, or is this a duty visit.”
“I could use one, duty or not.”
He got up and took the open beer off the dinette table and went to the small efficiency kitchen. He put the bottle in the sink and got two more out of the refrigerator. He cranked off the caps and brought them out to the seating arrangement. Rachel knew she had to be careful and alert. There was a thin line between who played whom in these situations.
“This place comes with glasses in the cabinet but I wouldn’t trust them,” he said, handing her a bottle.
“Bottle’s fine.”
She took hers and made sure she chinked it off his. She then took a short pull on the bottle. Sierra Nevada, it tasted good. She could tell he was watching to see if she was really drinking. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand even though she didn’t have to.
“That tastes right.”
“Sure does. So what part of this are they giving you?