He headed north again, and just a few miles outside Modesto, he saw the exit for Hammett Road. He left the freeway again and followed Hammett west and deep into a grove of almond trees planted in perfect lines, their dark trunks rising from the flooded irrigation plain. The water was so still that it looked like the trees were growing out of a vast mirror.

There was no way that he could have missed the entrance to the Cosgrove estate. The turnoff was wide and guarded by a brick wall and black-iron gate. There was an overhead camera and a call box for those who wished to enter. The letters CC were emblazoned on the gate.

Bosch used the wide expanse of asphalt at the entrance to turn the car around as though he were a lost traveler. As he headed back on Hammett in the direction of the 99, he noted that the security was all about the entrance road to the estate. No one could drive on without obtaining permission and having the gate opened. But walking on was another story. There was no wall or fence prohibiting access. Anyone willing to get their feet wet could make their way in by slogging through the almond grove. Unless there were hidden cameras and motion sensors in the grove, it was a classic deficiency in security. All show and no go.

As soon as he got back on the northbound 99 he passed the sign announcing his welcome to San Joaquin County. The next three exits were for the town of Ripon, and Bosch saw a sign for a motel poking above the thick pink-and-white-flowered bushes that lined the freeway. He took the next exit and worked his way back to the Blu-Lite Motel and Liquor Market. It was an old ranch-style motel right out of the 1950s. Bosch wanted a place that was private, where people would not be around to see his comings and goings. Bosch thought it would be perfect because he saw only one car parked in front of its many rooms.

He paid for the room at the counter in the liquor store. He went big, paying the top-of-the-line $49 rate for a room with a kitchenette.

“You don’t have Wi-Fi here by any chance, do you?” he asked the clerk.

“Not officially,” the clerk said. “But if you give me five bucks, I’ll give you the password on the Wi-Fi from the house behind the motel. You’ll pick up the signal in your efficiency.”

“Who gets the five bucks?”

“I split it with the guy who lives back there.”

Bosch thought about it for a moment.

“It’s private and secure,” the clerk offered.

“Okay,” Bosch said. “I’ll take it.”

He drove over to room 7 and parked in front of the door. Bringing his overnight bag inside, he put it on the bed and looked around. There was a small table in the kitchenette with two chairs. The room would work.