The Narrows Read online

  There was also a file with seemingly prescient notes on Elizabeth Smart, a child kidnapped in Utah who was found and returned after nearly a year. He correctly wrote "alive" under one of the newspaper photos of the young girl.

  McCaleb also made an unofficial study of the Robert Blake case. The former film and television star was accused of murdering his wife in another headlining case. The notes in the file were intuitive and on point, ultimately borne out as correct as the case entered the courts.

  I had to ask myself if it was possible that McCaleb had entered the notes in his files and predated them, using information from media accounts and making it appear that he was predicting case aspects or suspect traits from his own work when he wasn't. While anything was possible, it seemed entirely unrealistic to me to think McCaleb had done this. I could see no reason for him to commit such a quiet and self-defeating crime. I believed the work was real and was his.

  One file that I found contained newspaper stories on the LAPD's new cold case squad. Noted on the flap were the names and cell numbers of four detectives assigned to the unit. Terry had obviously been able to cross the gulf between the LAPD and the FBI if he had their cell numbers. I knew detectives' cell numbers were not handed out to just anyone.

  One of the four detectives I knew. Tim Marcia had spent time in Hollywood Division, including the homicide table. I knew it was late but cops expect to get late calls. I knew Marcia wouldn't mind. I took out my cell and called the number McCaleb had written next to his name on the file. Marcia answered immediately. I identified myself, got through the long-time-no-see pleasantries and explained that I was calling about Terry McCaleb. I didn't lie but I didn't say I was working a murder investigation. I said I was sorting through his files for his wife and came across Marcia's name and number. I was simply curious about what their relationship had been.

  "Harry, you worked some cold cases in your time, right? That thing up at your house last year came out of a cold case, didn't it?"

  "Right."

  "Then you know how it goes. Sometimes you grasp at straws, you take any help you can get. Terry called me up one day and offered his services. Not on a specific case. I think he had seen a story in the Times about the unit and he basically said if I ever needed him to work a profile he was there for me. He was one of the good ones. I was really sorry to hear what happened. I wanted to get over to Catalina for the service but things sort of came up."

  "Like they always do. Did you ever take him up on the offer to do a profile?" "Yeah, sort of. I know I did and a couple other of the guys here did, too. You know how it is. The department has no profiling to speak of and sometimes waiting on the bureau and Quantico can take months. Here was this guy who knew what he was doing and he didn't want anything back. He just wanted to work. So we used him. We bounced a few things off him."

  "And how did he do?"

  "He did good. We're working this one case now that's interesting. When the new chief put the squad together we started going back through the open-unsolveds. We linked six cases-body dumps up in the Valley. They had some similar aspects but were never connected before. We copied the files to Terry and he confirmed. He connected them through what he called 'psychological commonalities.' We're still working it but at least we know what we have now. We're on the track is what I mean. I'm not sure we would be where we are if Terry hadn't helped us out."

  "Good, I'm glad to hear he helped with it. I'll tell his wife and I'm sure it will help her to know that."

  "Good. So, Harry, you coming back in?"

  I was expecting him to ask what I was really doing with McCaleb's files, not whether I was coming back to the department.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You heard about the three-year ticket the chief instituted?"

  "No, what's that?"

  "He knows we lost a lot of talent in recent years. All the scandals and whatnot, good people saying, what the hell, I'm out of here. So he's opening the door for people to come back. If you reapply within three years of retirement and are accepted you can get back in without having to go to the academy. That's perfect for old guys like you."

  I heard the smile in his voice.

  'Three years, huh?"

  "Yeah. What's it been for you, two and a half?"

  "Just about."

  "Well, there you go. Think about it. We could use you here in cold cases. We've got seven thousand open-unsolveds. Take your pick, man."

  I didn't say anything. Out of the blue, I was struck with the idea of going back. In that moment I was blind to the negatives. I only thought about what it would be like to carry the badge again.

  "Then again, maybe you're having too much fun being retired. You need anything else, Harry?"

  "Uh, no, that was it. Thanks, man, I appreciate it."

  "Anytime. And think about the three-year plan. We could sure use you, whether it's here or back in Hollywood or wherever."

  "Yeah, thanks. Maybe I will. I'm going to think about it."

  I closed the phone and sat there surrounded by another man's obsessions but thinking about my own. I thought about going back. I thought about seven thousand unanswered voices from the grave. That was more than the number of stars you see when you look up into the sky at night.

  My phone buzzed while it was still in my hand. It pulled me out of the reverie and I opened it, expecting it to be Tim Marcia calling back and saying that three-year thing had just been a gag. But it was Graciela calling. "I can see lights on in the boat," she said. "Are you still there?"

  "Yeah, I'm here."

  "Why so late, Harry? You missed the last ferry." "I wasn't going to go back tonight. I was going to stay over and finish up here. Maybe head back tomorrow. I might want to come up and talk to you, too."

  "That's fine. I'm not working tomorrow. I'll be here packing." "Packing?"

  "We're going to move back to the mainland. We'll live in Northridge. I got my old job back in the ER at Holy Cross."

  "Is Raymond one of the reasons you're moving back?" "Raymond? What do you mean?" "I was wondering if there were any troubles with the boy. I heard he didn't like living on the island."

  "Raymond doesn't have a lot of friends. He doesn't fit in so well. But the move is not just because of Raymond. I want to go back. I wanted to before Terry was gone. I told you that." "Yes, I know," She changed the subject.

  "Is there anything you need? Did you get something to eat?"

  "I found some stuff in the boat's kitchen. I'm fine." She groaned in disgust.

  "That all must be old. Check the expiration dates before you eat anything else." "I will."

  She hesitated and then asked the question she had called to ask. "Have you found anything yet?"

  "Well, I've found some things I am curious about. But nothing that particularly stands out yet."

  I thought about the man in the Dodgers cap. He certainly stood out for me but I didn't want to bring him up yet with Graciela. I wanted to know more before talking to her about him.

  "Okay," she said. "But keep me informed about things, okay?"

  "That's the deal."

  "Okay, Harry, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Are you staying in a hotel or on the boat?"

  "The boat, I think. If that's all right with you."

  "It's fine with me. Do what you want to."

  "Okay. Can I ask you something?"

  "Sure, what?"

  "You were talking about packing and I'm just curious about something. How often do you go over to the mainland? You know, to go to the mall or restaurants or see family."

  "Usually about once a month. Unless something specific comes up and I need to go."

  "You take the kids?"

  "Usually. I want them to be used to it. You grow up on an island where they have golf carts instead of cars and everybody knows everybody ... it can be strange to suddenly move to the mainland. I'm trying to get them ready for it"

  "I guess that's smart. What mall is closest to the ferry docks?"

>   "I don't know what one is closest, but I always go up to the Promenade on Pico. I just shoot up the four-oh- five from the harbor. I know there are closer malls-Fox Hills, for example-but I like the Promenade. I like the stores there and it's easy. Sometimes I meet friends from the Valley and it is a good halfway point for all of us."

  And easy to be followed to, I thought but didn't say.

  "Good," I said, not sure what I was saying was good. "One other thing. I'm running out of light here. The batteries, I guess. Is there a switch or something I should hit to recharge or how do you do that?"

  "You didn't ask Buddy?"

  "No, I didn't know I was going to run out of light when I was with Buddy."

  "Oh, Harry, I'm not sure. There's a generator that has to run. I'm not sure even where it is."

  "Okay, well, don't worry about it. I can call Buddy. I'll let you go, Graciela. I ought to get back to work while I still have some light."

  I hung up and wrote the name of the mall down in my notebook, then left the room and went around the boat turning off all the lights but the one on the desk in the forward berth in an effort to conserve power. I called Buddy on the cell after that and he answered in a groggy voice.

  "Hey, Buddy, wake up. It's Harry Bosch."

  "Who? Oh. What do you want?"

  "I need your help. Is there like a generator or something on this boat that will give me some light? The batteries are dying on me."

  "Man, don't let those things drain all the way down. You'll kill them."

  "Then what do I do?"

  "You've got to crank the Volvos, man, and then turn on the generator. The thing is it's near midnight. Those folks sleeping on their boats in line with you aren't going to take so kindly to hearing that"

  "All right, forget it. But in the morning I should do it, so what do I do, use a key?"

  "Yeah, just like a car. Go to the helm in the salon, put in the keys and turn them to the on position. Then above each key is the ignition toggle. Flip it up and she should start right up-unless you've used all the juice up and there's no charge."

  "Okay, I'll do it. You got any flashlights on this thing?"

  "Yeah, there's one in the galley, one over the chart table and one in the master in the built-in drawer to the left of the bed. There's also a lantern in the lower cabinet of the galley. But you don't want to use that down in the front room. The kerosene smell will build up in there and you might croak yourself. Then there'd be another mystery to solve."

  He said the last line with a note of contempt in his voice. I let it go.

  "Thanks, Buddy. I'll talk to you."

  "Yeah. Good night."

  I hung up and went looking for the flashlights, coming back to the forward berth with a small one from the master stateroom and a large table light from the galley. I put the large light on the desk and turned it on. I then killed the berth's lights. The table light's glow hit the small room's low ceiling and spread. It wasn't bad. Between that and the handheld light I would still be able to get some work done.

  I was down to less than half a box of files to go and wanted to finish before figuring out where I was going to sleep. These were all thin files, the most recent additions to McCaleb's collection, and I could tell most of them contained little more than a newspaper clip and maybe a few notes on the flap.

  I reached in and picked one out at random. I should have been in Vegas throwing dice. Because the file I picked turned out to be a long-shot winner. It was the file that gave my investigation focus. It put me on the road.

  CHAPTER 13

  The file tab simply said 6 missing. It contained a single clipping from the Los Angeles Times and several dated notes and names and phone numbers handwritten on the inside flap, as was McCaleb's routine. I sensed that the file was important before I even read the story or understood the meaning of some of the notes. It was the dating on the flap that triggered this response. McCaleb had jotted his thoughts down on the file four different times, beginning on January 7 and ending on February 28 of this year. He would be dead a month later on March 31. Those notes and those dates were the most recent found in any of the files I had reviewed. I knew I was looking at what might have been Terry's last work. His last case and obsession. There were still files to look at but this one gave me the vibe and I went with it A reporter I knew wrote the story. Keisha Russell had been working the cop beat at the Times at least ten years and was good at it She was also accurate and fair. She had lived up to every deal I had ever made with her in the years I was on the job, and she had gone out of her way to play fair with me the year before, when I was no longer on the job and things turned bad on my first private case. The bottom line was that I felt comfortable taking anything she wrote as fact. I started to read.

  SEARCH FOR A MISSING LINK

  ARE NEVADA DISAPPEARANCES OF

  2 L.A. MEN, 4 OTHERS CONNECTED? by Keisha Russell Times Staff Writer

  The mysterious disappearances of at least six men, including two from Los Angeles, from gambling centers in Nevada have got investigators searching for a missing link among the men.

  Detectives with the Las Vegas Metro Police said Tuesday that while the men did not know each other and came from widely disparate hometowns and backgrounds, there still may be a commonality among them that could be the key to the mystery.

  The men, ranging in age from 29 to 61, were reported missing by their families during the past three years. Four were last known to be in Las Vegas, where police are heading the investigation, and two disappeared while on trips to Laughlin and Primm. None of the men left any indication in then-hotel rooms or vehicles or homes as to where they were going or what became of them.

  "At this point it is a stone-cold mystery," said Detective Todd Ritz of Vegas Metro's Missing Persons unit. "People disappear from here or anywhere all the time. But they usually show up later, dead or alive. And there's usually an explanation. With these guys there's nothing. It's a thin air case."

  But Ritz and other detectives are sure there is an explanation and they are enlisting the public's help in finding it Last week detectives from Las Vegas, Laughlin and Primm gathered at the Vegas Metro offices to compare notes and set an investigative strategy. They also went public with the case, hoping photographs of the men and their stories would spark new information from the public. On Tuesday, a week later, Ritz reported that not much in the way of usable information had come in.

  "There has got to be someone who knows something or saw something or heard something," said Ritz in a telephone interview. "Six guys just don't get up and disappear without somebody knowing something. We need that somebody to come forward."

  As Ritz said, missing persons cases are numerous. The fact that these six men came to Nevada for business or pleasure and never went home is what makes this case different.

  The publicity comes at a time Las Vegas is once again redefining its image. Gone is the marketing strategy that billed the neon city as a family destination. Sin is back in. In the past three years numerous clubs featuring nude or partially nude dancers have been licensed, and many of the casi- nos on the fabled strip have produced shows featuring nudity and strictly adult subject matter. Billboards featuring nudity in their advertisements have been erected and drawn the ire of some community activists. It has all helped change the complexion of the city. Once again it is being marketed as a leave-the-kids-at-home adult playground.

  As the recent billboard skirmishes suggest, the change hasn't played well with everyone and many speculate that the disappearances of these six travelers may in some indirect way be linked to the region's return to an anything-goes atmosphere.

  "Let's face it," said Ernie Gelson, a columnist for the Las Vegas Sun, "they tried the family fun thing and it didn't play. The town is going back to what plays. And what plays is what pays. Now, is that the missing link that connects these six guys? I don't know. Maybe we never will."

  Still, Gelson is uneasy about jumping to any conclusions that would link the mi
ssing men to the changing image of Las Vegas.

  "First of all, remember, they didn't all disappear from Las Vegas," he said. "And second to that, there are not enough facts to substantiate any theory at the moment. I think we have to sit back and let the mystery resolve itself before we jump on any bandwagons."