Twenty minutes later Bosch was sitting on an empty desk at the mouth of the hallway that led to the RHD interview rooms on the third floor. He was still thinking about the exchange he’d had with Button and Chainey and wondering what they had. He heard one of the doors open and looked up. Frankie Sheehan came down the hallway with Lindell. Bosch’s old partner looked drained. His face was slack, his hair unkempt and his clothes — the same ones he had worn the night before in the bar — were disheveled. Bosch slid off the desk and stood up, ready to deflect a physical assault if need be. But Sheehan apparently read his body language and raised his hands, palms forward. He smiled crookedly.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Sheehan said, his voice very tired and hoarse. “Agent Lindell here gave me the scoop. Part of it, at least. It wasn’t you who . . . It was myself. You know I forgot all about threatening that douche bag.”

Bosch nodded.

“Come on, Frankie,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Without thinking too much about it Bosch led him to the main elevators and they headed down to the lobby. They stood side by side, both looking up at the lighted numbers above the door.

“Sorry I doubted you, buddy,” Sheehan said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. That makes us even.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Last night when I asked about the prints.”

“You still doubt them?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

In the lobby they went out a side door to the employee parking lot. They were about halfway to the car when Bosch heard a commotion and turned to see several reporters and cameramen moving toward them.

“Don’t say anything,” Bosch said quickly. “Don’t say a word to them.”

The initial wave of reporters descended quickly and surrounded them. Bosch could see more coming.

“No comment,” Bosch said. “No comment.”

But it wasn’t Bosch they cared about. They shoved their microphones and cameras at Sheehan’s face. His eyes, so tired before, seemed wild now, even scared. Bosch tried to pull his friend through the crowd and to the car. The reporters shouted their questions.

“Detective Sheehan, did you kill Howard Elias?” a woman asked, louder than the others.

“No,” Sheehan said. “I didn’t — I didn’t do anything.”

“Did you previously threaten the victim?”

“Look, no comment,” Bosch said before Sheehan could react to the question. “Do you hear that? No comment. Leave us a — ”

“Why were you questioned?”

“Tell us why you were questioned, Detective”

They were almost there. Some of the reporters had dropped off, realizing they would get nothing. But most of the cameras were staying with them. They could always use the video. Suddenly, Sheehan broke from Bosch’s grip and wheeled around on the reporters.