He was about to hang up.

“Oh, Harry?”

“What?”

“You gotta call from Carla Entrenkin. She said she needed to talk to you. I was going to give her your pager but then I thought you might not want that. She might start paging you every time she gets a wild hair.”

“That’s fine. Did she leave a number?”

She gave it to him and they hung up.

“We’re going to the Kincaids’?” Edgar asked.

“Yeah, I just decided. Get on the radio and run the plate on that white Volvo. See what name’s on it. I’ve got to make a call.”

Bosch called the number Carla Entrenkin had left and she answered after two rings.

“It’s Bosch.”

“Detective . . .”

“You called?”

“Yes, uh, I just wanted to apologize about last night. I was upset at what I saw on the television and . . . and I think I spoke too soon. I’ve done some checking and I think I was wrong about what I said.”

“You were.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, Inspector, I appreciate you calling. I better — ”

“How is the investigation going?”

“It’s going. Have you talked to Chief Irving?”

“Yes, I have. He told me that they are questioning Detective Sheehan.”

“Don’t hold your breath on that.”

“I’m not. What about what you are pursuing? I was told you are reinvestigating the original case. The murder of Stacey Kincaid.”

“Well, we can now prove Harris didn’t do it. You were right about that. Elias was going to go into court and clear him. He didn’t do it. We now just have to prove somebody else did. And my money is still on that somebody being the one who also did Elias. I have to go now, Inspector.”

“Will you call me if you make significant progress?”

Bosch thought about this for a few moments. Dealing with Carla Entrenkin somehow gave him the feel of consorting with the enemy.

“Yes,” he finally said. “I’ll call if there is significant progress.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

THE Los Angeles car czar and his wife now lived off Mulholland Drive in an exclusive development called The Summit. It was a gated and guarded neighborhood of side-by-side millionaires with spectacular homes that looked down from the Santa Monica Mountains and north across the basin of the San Fernando Valley. The Kincaids had moved from Brentwood to these gated hills after their daughter’s murder. It was a move toward security that was too late for the little girl.