“I don’t know. You never can tell what people are going to do.”

“How’d you leave it over there?”

“The coroner and SID are still there. A couple RHD bulls — they’re handling it.”

Lindell nodded.

“I saw what I needed to see. Show me what you have here.”

They went into the house and Lindell led the way to the huge living room where Bosch had sat with the Kincaids the afternoon before. He saw the bodies. Sam Kincaid was in the same spot on the couch where Bosch had last seen him. D.C. Richter was on the floor below the window that looked out across the Valley. There was no jetliner view now. It was just gray. Richter’s body was in a pool of blood. Kincaid’s blood had seeped into the material covering the couch. There were several technicians working in the room and lights were set up. Bosch saw that numbered plastic markers had been put in place where .22-caliber shells had been located on the floor and other furniture.

“You have the twenty-two over in Brentwood, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what she used.”

“You didn’t think about searching her before you started talking, huh?”

Bosch looked at the FBI agent and shook his head slightly in annoyance.

“Are you kidding me? It was a voluntary Q&A, man. Maybe you’ve never done one over there at the bureau, but rule number one is you don’t make the subject feel like a suspect before you even start. I didn’t search and it would have been a mistake if — ”

“I know, I know. Sorry I asked. It’s just that . . .”

He didn’t finish but Bosch knew what he was getting at. He decided to change the subject.

“The old man show up?”

“Jack Kincaid? No, we sent people to him. I hear he is not taking it well. He’s calling every politician he ever gave money to. I guess he thinks maybe the city council or the mayor will be able to bring his son back.”

“He knew what his son was. Probably knew all the time. That’s why he’s making the calls. He doesn’t want that to come out.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. We’ve already found digital video cameras and editing equipment. We’ll tie him to Charlotte’s Web. I feel confident of that.”

“It won’t matter. Where’s Chief Irving?”

“On the way.”

Bosch nodded. He stepped close to the couch and bent over, his hands on his knees, to look closely at the dead car czar. His eyes were open and his jaw was set in a final grimace. Lindell had been right when he’d said it had not been an easy ride down. He thought of Kincaid’s expression in comparison to his wife’s death look. There was no comparison.