“I don’t know what you’re talking about but the case on Sheehan is closed. He’s dead, Elias is dead. Everybody’s dead. That’s it. Now we have this — the whole city coming apart again.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Chastain stared at him, trying to read him.

“You’re not making sense, Bosch. You need to get some sleep. We all do.”

Bosch opened the door and stepped out. Chastain moved back another step and drew his right hand up a little until he hooked his thumb on his belt near his gun. There were unwritten rules of engagement. That was one of them. Bosch was now on deadly ground. He understood this. He was ready.

Bosch turned and swung his car door closed. While Chastain’s eyes involuntarily followed that movement, Bosch swiftly reached inside his coat and pulled his pistol out of his holster. He had it pointing at Chastain before the IAD detective could make a move.

“All right, we do it your way. Put your hands on the roof of the car.”

“What the hell are you — ”

“PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE CAR!”

Chastain’s hands went up.

“Okay, okay . . . easy, Bosch, be easy.”

He moved to the car and put his hands flat on the roof. Bosch came up behind him and took his gun from its holster. He stepped back and put it into his own holster.

“I guess I don’t have to check you for a throw-down. You already used yours on Frankie Sheehan, right?”

“What? I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“That’s okay.”

Keeping his right hand pressed against Chastain’s back, Bosch reached around and took the handcuffs off the man’s belt. He pulled one of Chastain’s arms behind his back and cuffed his wrist. He then pulled the other arm back and completed the handcuffing.

Bosch walked him around and sat him in the backseat of the slickback opposite the driver’s side. He then got back behind the wheel. He took Chastain’s gun out of his holster, put it into his briefcase and reholstered his own weapon. Bosch adjusted the rearview mirror so he could quickly see Chastain at a glance and flicked the lock switch which rendered the rear doors inoperable from the inside.

“You stay right there where I can see you. At all times.”

“Fuck you! What the hell do you think you’re doing? Where are you taking me?”

Bosch put the car in drive and headed away from the police station. He headed west until he could turn north on Normandie. Almost five minutes went by before he answered Chastain’s question.

“We’re going to Parker Center,” he said. “When we get there you’re going to tell me about killing Howard Elias, Catalina Perez . . . and Frankie Sheehan.”