“Okay, Maddie, try to stay calm,” Ballard said. “There’s gotta be an explanation for that. And he’ll tell us once we find him. So let’s just calm down until we get to that point.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Maddie said. “But please find him. And let me know what I can do to help. I mean it.”

“I understand. And I will.”

Ballard disconnected, then immediately did an internet search on her phone for the Key West Police Department. She called the main number, identified herself, and asked for the commanding officer on duty. She told a lieutenant named Burke that she needed an emergency welfare check on a guest at the Pier House. She gave him Bosch’s details and asked for a callback as soon as he was checked on.

Not knowing how long it would take the KWPD to react, Ballard next called the Pier House and talked to the man in charge of the hotel’s security. She explained the situation and asked him to go to Bosch’s room for a welfare check. He in turn explained that their policy did not allow them to force entry into a possibly occupied guest room without the police being present.

“Well, they’re on their way,” Ballard said.

She disconnected and felt useless waiting on word from people three thousand miles away. She opened a search window on her phone and tried to figure out how fast she could get to Key West. Fifteen minutes later, she had just reserved a rental car to go with the red-eye flight to Miami that she had booked when a call came in with a 786 area code.

“It’s Bob Burke, KWPD.”

“Did you check his room?”

“We did, but it was empty. Bosch is not there and there’s no indication of anything amiss. Two shirts on hangers in the closet, a toothbrush, a duffel bag. His wallet is in a drawer next to the bed. One of my guys asked around, and the bartender in the Chart Room said Bosch was in there earlier and had an expensive shot of bourbon. I don’t know if it helps, but the bartender said he was asking about an Irish guy named Davy Byrne. That ring any bells?”

Ballard hesitated. It sounded like Bosch might have located Finbar McShane, or at least the alias he was using.

“Uh, the name isn’t right,” she said. “But he was tracking a suspect in a cold case we’re working out here. The suspect’s Irish.”

“Well, maybe he found him,” Burke said. “But there’s no sign of foul play in his room. I’ll do some digging around here, check with our dayside people to see if they know anything about this.”

“Please do, and call me as soon as you know something. I’m flying out tonight and will be on the ground in Miami at dawn.”