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Back Desert Star Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ALSO BY MICHAEL CONNELLY
  3. DEDICATION
  4. PART 1
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. PART 2
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. EPILOGUE
  61. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  62. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“So, how did that go?” she asked.

“I guess okay,” Ballard said. “We just need to break open his sister’s case and then we’re made in the shade.”

“We will.”

“Anything on IGG?”

“I’ve got one hit through GEDmatch so far. A distant cousin to our unknown suspect. I’m going to reach out today, but I’m hoping we get something better. Something closer.”

“Good. Let me know.”

Hatteras dropped back out of sight and Ballard went to work. Not believing that Hastings or anyone else in Pearlman’s crew would move quickly to get her a contact number for Sandy Kramer, Ballard started looking on her own. She guessed that Sandy was a nickname or a diminutive for a given name such as Alexander. As she expected, DMV records didn’t help. There were too many Alexander Kramers for her to confidently pick a winner. There were also several entries under Sandy or other alternatives, like Sandor and Sundeep.

Her next move was to google tuxedo shops in Century City and start making phone calls. When she had exhausted all the internet listings and hadn’t come across a salesman named Kramer, she moved on to Beverly Hills, which was adjacent to Century City.

She hit pay dirt on her third call, this one to a place on Beverly Drive called Tux by Lux. She was told that a salesman named Alexander Kramer was on his day off but would be back at ten the next morning. Ballard guessed that selling tuxedos in Beverly Hills required a more formal name than Sandy.

Ballard disconnected. She planned to be in Beverly Hills the next morning when Kramer came to work.

22

BOSCH WAS SQUINTING through the sharp morning light and a slight hangover, looking for address numbers on a small blond-brick house at the corner of South Keeler and West 43rd Street. He was far from the DoubleTree near the lake, where he had spent the night. And even farther from Los Angeles. He was sitting in the back seat of an Uber in a mixed neighborhood of small homes and one-floor warehouses and manufacturing businesses.

“This has got to be it,” the driver said.

“I don’t see any numbers,” Bosch said.

“Yes, but it’s got to be it. My GPS says so, and this will be the best I can do for you, sir.”

“Okay, I’m getting out here. You want to wait around? I’ll be out in less than thirty minutes and then I go to the American terminal at O’Hare. I’ll pay you to wait. I don’t want to miss my plane.”

“No, man, I don’t wait ’round here.”

“You sure? Fifty bucks, just to wait a half hour. Then the airport run on top of that.”