“I can’t remember if I knew any names. I mean, I might have known their first names when we were on the boat, but I don’t know if I remembered them a year later. There were so many guys on that boat. I just remember they were from California and we were calling them the truckers.”

“The truckers?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you call them that? Did they say they drove trucks?”

“They might have, but what I remember is that they had tattoos of the Keep on Truckin’ guy with the big shoes. You remember that comic?”

Bosch nodded, not at her question but at the confirmation of things.

“Yes, I do. So these guys had that tattoo? Where?”

“On their shoulders. It was hot on that boat and we were in the pool bar so they either weren’t wearing shirts or they had their wifebeaters on. At least a couple of them had matching tattoos and so we—meaning the girls in the bar—just started calling them the truckers. It’s hard for me to remember the details and I’m already going to be late for work.”

“You are doing good, Ms. Jackson. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Did those guys kill her?”

“I don’t know yet. Do you have email?”

“Of course.”

“Can I send you a link? It will be to a photo on a website that shows some guys on the Saudi Princess back then. Can you look at it and tell me if you recognize any of them?”

“Can I do it when I get to work? I need to go.”

“Yes, that will be fine. I’ll send it as soon as we hang up.”

“Okay.”

She gave him her email address and he wrote it down on a pad that was on the bedside table.

“Thank you, Ms. Jackson. Let me know about the link as soon as you can.”

Bosch disconnected. He went to the kitchenette table, fired up his laptop, and connected to the Wi-Fi signal of the house behind the motel. Using skills picked up from both his partner and daughter, he then located the link to the Saudi Princess photo on the 237th Company’s website and sent it in an email to the Charlotte Jackson he had just spoken to.

He went to the window and checked through the curtain. It was still dark outside without even a hint of sunrise yet. Overnight the parking lot had somehow gotten almost half full. He decided to shower and get ready for the day while waiting for the response on the photo.

Twenty minutes later he was drying off with a towel that had been washed a thousand times. He heard the email ding from his computer and went to the kitchenette to check it. Charlotte Jackson had replied.