Chapters (62)
Boatman’s legs went out and he landed butt-first on the ground. Bosch gently guided him down so that he was lying on his back.
“You just lost your breath, that’s all,” he said. “Just take it easy and it’ll come back.”
Boatman’s face was almost purple, but then Bosch saw his skin begin to turn red and his breathing start to return to normal.
“That’s it,” he said. “You’re all right. Just keep breathing.”
“Fuck you,” Boatman said.
His words came out strangled and high-pitched.
“You were threatening me and I had to stop it,” Bosch said.
“I wasn’t …,” Boatman said.
He stopped talking, realizing it was too soon. Bosch was crouched next to him, ready to strike again if Boatman was foolish enough to attempt to retaliate.
He didn’t. He relaxed and eventually turned his head to see if any of his coworkers had seen him laid low by an old man.
“What the fuck do you want?” he finally asked.
“I want to know if that was you who did the burglary.”
“Why would I rip off my own mother?”
Boatman started to get up but Bosch put his hand on his chest and pushed him back down.
“Stay down,” he said. “You ripped her off for drug money. It was crystal meth, right?”
“I’m not talking to you, man,” Boatman said. “I’m not telling you shit.”
“You sure? I mean, it doesn’t matter. It’s long past any statute of limitations. If I had still been a cop back then, things might’ve been different. But you got lucky and got away with it. You can’t be charged now. So you might as well tell me.”
“Like I said, I’m not telling you shit.”
He looked away from Bosch, refusing to give him his eyes.
“It’s okay, Jonathan,” Bosch said. “You just did.”
“Wrong, asshole,” Boatman said.
“So what did your mother say yesterday when she called you after I left?”
“She said you’re an asshole.”
“Really? That hurts.”
“Yeah, good.”
Bosch patted him on the cheek.
“You be good now, Jonathan,” he said.
His knees cracked as he got up. He stumbled a bit getting his balance and tried to hide his own physical exhaustion from the encounter. He turned from Boatman and started back toward the parking lot.
“Fuck you, old man!”
Boatman had yelled it loud but without much conviction. Bosch didn’t even bother to look back. His acknowledgment was a simple wave and then he made a turn and was out of Boatman’s sight.
He knew that Boatman would most likely be on the phone to his mother within minutes. That was okay with Bosch, too. He wanted Sheila Walsh to know that this was not over. Not by a long shot.