“What Harris says happened . . . happened. But that doesn’t excuse what he did. He rapes and strangles that little girl; we stick a pencil in his ear. Big fucking deal. He gets off and I’m the new Mark Fuhrman — a racist cop who planted evidence. I just wish somebody could tell me how the fuck I could’ve planted those prints?”

He was getting loud. Luckily, only the bartender was noticing.

“I know,” Bosch said. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Sheehan went on as if he hadn’t heard Bosch.

“I guess I always carried around a set of throw-down prints that belonged to a douche bag I wanted to send away. I then put them on the book — don’t ask me how — and voilà, we got our douche bag. Only why would I pick Harris to pin it on? I never knew the mutt or had anything to do with him. And there’s nobody on this planet that can prove I did because it’s not there to be proved.”

“You’re right.”

Sheehan shook his head and looked down into his beer.

“I quit caring about shit when that jury came in and said not guilty. When they said I was guilty . . . when they believed that man instead of us.”

Bosch remained silent. He knew that Sheehan had to say his piece.

“We’re losing the battle, man. I see that now. It’s all a game. The fucking lawyers, what they can do to you. To the evidence. I give up, Harry. I really do. I already decided. It’s twenty-five and out for me. I got eight more months and I’m counting the fuckers down. I’m gonna punch out, move on up to Blue Heaven and leave this toilet for all the douche bags.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Frankie,” Bosch said quietly.

He couldn’t think of what else he could say. He was hurt and stunned by his friend’s lapse into a complete state of hate and cynicism. He understood it but was simply surprised by the complete toll it had taken. He was also disappointed in himself and privately embarrassed at how wholeheartedly he had defended Sheehan to Carla Entrenkin.

“I remember on that last day,” Sheehan said. “I was in there with him. In the room. And I got so fucking angry I just wanted to take my gun out and blow his shit away. But I knew I couldn’t. Because he knew where she was. He had the girl!”

Bosch just nodded.

“We had tried everything and got nothing. He broke us before we could break him. It got down to where I was just begging him to tell us. It was embarrassing, Harry.”

“And what did he do?”