The Overlook - Michael Connelly [14]
His phone buzzed and Bosch went back into the kitchen to take the call. He noticed that Walling and Brenner were gone, apparently having slipped into another part of the house. It made Bosch anxious. He didn’t know what they were looking for or up to.
The call was from his partner. Ferras had finally made it to the crime scene.
“Is the body still there?” Bosch asked.
“No, the ME just cleared the scene,” Ferras said. “I think Forensics is finishing up, too.”
Bosch updated him on the direction the case appeared to be going, telling him about the federal involvement and the potentially dangerous materials Stanley Kent had had access to. He then directed him to start knocking on doors and looking for witnesses who might have seen or heard something relating to the killing of Stanley Kent. He knew it was a long shot, because no one had called 9-1-1 after the shooting.
“Should I do that now, Harry? It’s the middle of the night and people are slee—”
“Yes, Ignacio, you should do it now.”
Bosch wasn’t worried about waking people up. There was a good chance that the generator that powered the crime scene lights had awakened the neighborhood anyway. But the canvassing of the neighborhood had to be done and it was always better to find witnesses sooner rather than later.
When Bosch came out of the kitchen the paramedics had packed up and were leaving. They told Bosch that Alicia Kent was physically fine, with minor wounds and skin abrasions. They also said they had given her a pill to help calm her and a tube of the cream to continue to apply to the chafe marks on her wrists and ankles.
Walling was sitting on the couch next to her again and Brenner was back in his seat by the fireplace.
Bosch sat down on the chair directly across the glass coffee table from Alicia Kent.
“Mrs. Kent,” he began, “we are very sorry for your loss and the trauma you have been through. But it is very urgent that we move quickly with the investigation. In a perfect world we would wait until you were ready to talk to us. But it’s not a perfect world. You know that better than we do now. We need to ask you questions about what happened here tonight.”
She folded her arms across her chest and nodded that she understood.
“Then let’s get started,” Bosch said. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“Two men,” she responded tearfully. “I never saw them. I mean their faces. I never saw their faces. There was a knock at the door and I answered. There was no one there. Then when I started to close the door they were there. They jumped out. They had on masks and hoods—like a sweatshirt with a hood. They pushed their way in and they grabbed me. They had a knife and one of them grabbed me and held it against my throat. He told me he would cut my throat if I didn’t do exactly what he told me to do.”
She lightly touched the bandage on her neck.
“Do you remember what time this was?” Bosch asked.
“It was almost six o’clock,” she said. “It had been dark for a while and I was about to start dinner. Stanley comes home most nights at seven. Unless he’s working down in the South County or up in the desert.”
The reminder of her husband’s habits brought a new rush of tears into Alicia Kent’s eyes and voice. Bosch tried to keep her on point by moving to the next question. He thought he already detected a slowing down of her speech. The pill the paramedics gave her was taking effect.
“What did the men do, Mrs. Kent?” he asked.
“They took me to the bedroom. They made me sit down on the bed and take off all my clothes. Then they—one of them—started to ask me questions. I was scared. I guess I got hysterical and he slapped me and he yelled at me. He told me to calm down and answer his questions.”
“What did he ask you?”
“I can’t remember everything. I was so scared.”
“Try, Mrs. Kent. It’s important. It will help us find your husband’s killers.”
“He asked me if we had a gun and he asked me where the—”
“Wait a minute, Mrs. Kent,” Bosch said. “Let’s go one at a time. He asked you if you had a gun. What did you tell him?”
“I was scared. I said, yes, we had