Rowan looked at her and seemed to get the message that this wasn’t going to turn into a social visit. He moved to the chair and sat down.

“Well, let me see what you have here,” he said.

“I can talk you through it,” Ballard said. “But if you just want to read it, everything is right there.”

“Did you go through the District Attorney’s Office with this?”

“Not exactly. I’m now running the cold case unit, Judge, and we have a retired deputy D.A. assigned to the unit who reviews and helps us write our warrants. He came in from home today to work on this because he knew time was of the essence.”

“Really? What’s this deputy’s name?”

“Paul Masser. He worked in Major Crimes at the D.A.’s.”

“I know him. A capable prosecutor.”

“He is.”

“So … let’s see.”

The judge started reading the first page and Ballard felt her guts tighten. The first four pages of the application were standard boilerplate legalese that was virtually the same on every warrant a judge was presented with. Rowan could have flipped through these to the meat of the application—the case summary and probable cause statement—but he wasn’t doing that, and Ballard had to believe it was because she had deflected his attempt to turn this into a social visit, if not something more.

Still, she said nothing for fear she might anger the judge and cause him to reject the warrant. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other and just watched.

Rowan remained silent until he flipped to the third page and spoke without looking up from the document.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something, Renée?”

“No, Judge, I’m fine. My partner’s waiting out there.”

“I understand. I’m going as fast as I can. I have to be thorough. I don’t want this to come back and bite me in appellate court should I see fit to sign it and send you on your way.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Charlie. We’re old friends, Renée.”

“Charlie … then.”

Finally, he got to the statement of facts regarding the case and then the PC statement. Ballard checked her watch. She was worried about what was going on with Bosch as he waited for her to get to Montana Avenue.

“Checking your watch does not help,” Rowan said. “You may be in a hurry, but I can’t be. Not when we are considering the search and seizure of a man’s properties and body.”

“I understand, sir,” Ballard said. “I mean, Charlie.”

She was now sure that Rowan was going reject the warrant because she had rejected him. She was chasing down a serial killer, and this judge would be so petty as to thwart that effort because his pride was bruised. Ballard wished she had just taken her chances with Canterbury.