Bosch thought about whether the gunman could have waited in the bus shelter for Elias to walk up to the Angels Flight turnstile. He decided against it. The shelter was lit by an overhead light. Elias would have had a good view of whoever sat in there as he approached the train. Since Bosch thought it was likely that Elias knew his killer, he didn’t think the shooter would have waited out in the open like that.

He looked at the other side of the archway where there was a heavily landscaped ten-yard strip between the train entrance and a small office building. Bushes crowded thickly around an acacia tree. Bosch wished he hadn’t left his briefcase up in the station house.

“Anybody bring a flashlight?” he asked.

Rider reached into her purse and brought out a small penlight. Bosch took it and headed into the bushes, putting the light on the ground and studying his pathway in. He found no obvious sign that the killer had waited in here. There was trash and other debris scattered in behind the bushes but none of it appeared to be fresh. It looked like a place where homeless people had stopped to look through trash bags they had picked up from somewhere else.

Rider made her way into the bushes.

“Find anything?”

“Nothing good. I’m just trying to figure out where this guy would have hidden from Elias. This could have been as good a spot as any. Elias wouldn’t see him, he’d come out after Elias walked by, move up behind him at the train car.”

“Maybe he didn’t need to hide. Maybe they walked here together.”

Bosch looked at her and nodded.

“Maybe. As good as anything I’m coming up with in here.”

“What about the bus bench?”

“Too open, too well lighted. If it was someone Elias had reason to fear, he’d’ve seen him.”

“What about a disguise? He could have sat in the bus stop in a disguise.”

“There’s that.”

“You’ve already considered all of this but you let me go on talking, saying things you already know.”

He didn’t say anything. He handed the flashlight back to Rider and headed out of the bushes. He looked over at the bus stop once more and felt sure he was right in his thinking. The bus stop hadn’t been used. Rider came up next to him and followed his gaze.

“Hey, did you know Terry McCaleb over at the bureau?” she asked.

“Yeah, we worked a case once. Why, you know him?”

“Not really. But I’ve seen him on TV. He doesn’t look like Clint Eastwood, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, not really.”

Bosch saw Chastain and Baker had crossed the street and were standing in the hollow created by the closed roll-up doors at the entrance of the huge Grand Central Market. They were looking at something on the ground.