“It was chicken with like a yogurt sauce. And mac and cheese.”

“Gotta have mac and cheese.”

“She made it different from me.”

Meaning Maddie liked her own better. Bosch could feel himself falling off. He tried to rally.

“Yeah, well, the chef gets to choose. If you do the cooking, then you make it your way.”

“I know. I told her I’d cook tomorrow if I don’t have much homework.”

“Good, and maybe I’ll cook Wednesday.”

That made him smile and he guessed she was smiling, too.

“Yeah, ramen noodles. Oh boy, can’t wait.”

“Me neither. I gotta go to sleep now, baby. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She disconnected and Bosch heard the three beeps as the line went dead. He lay there, unable to get up. The lights were still on but he closed his eyes. In seconds he was asleep.

Bosch dreamed of an endless march through the mud. But the almond trees were gone and replaced by burned-off stumps with jagged black branches reaching out to him like hands. In the distance, there was the sound of an angry dog barking. And no matter how quickly Bosch moved, the dog was getting closer.

Chapter 28

28

Bosch was dragged from a deep sleep by his phone buzzing on his chest. His first thought was that it was his daughter, either in trouble or upset about Hannah for some reason. The bedside clock said 4:22 A.M.

He grabbed the phone but didn’t see the photo of Maddie, tongue sticking out at him, which came up on screen when she called. He checked the number on the screen and saw the 404 area code. Atlanta.

“This is Detective Bosch.”

He pulled himself up and looked around for his notebook, remembering again that it was in the car. He realized he was naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, my name is Charlotte Jackson and you left a message for me yesterday. I didn’t get it until late last night. Is it too early there?”

Bosch’s head cleared. He remembered the call he got at the restaurant from Charlotte Jackson number four. This had to be Charlotte Jackson number three. It was the only outstanding callback. He remembered she lived on Ora Avenue in East Atlanta.

“That’s okay, Ms. Jackson,” he said. “I’m glad you called me back. As my message said, I’m a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. I work in the Open-Unsolved Unit, which is a cold-case squad, if that makes any sense to you.”

“I used to watch Cold Case on TV. It was a good show.”

“Okay, well, I’m working on an old homicide case and I’m trying to reach a Charlotte Jackson who served in the military during Desert Storm in nineteen ninety-one.”

There was a silence but Bosch waited for a response.