Most often the weakest link was a person. Bosch believed he was looking at a twenty-year-old conspiracy that involved at least four people, possibly five. One was dead, two were wrapped in the protections of power, money, and the law. That left John Francis Dowler and Reginald Banks.

Dowler was out of town and Bosch didn’t want to wait for him to come back. He had speed and he wanted to keep it. That left Banks, not only by default but because Bosch believed it had been Banks who had made the call ten years ago to check on the case. That was an indication to Bosch of worry. Of fear. And those were signs of weakness that Bosch could exploit.

After an early lunch at the In-N-Out Burger on Yosemite Avenue and then a stop at a nearby Starbucks, Bosch drove back to Crows Landing Road and found the same spot at the curb from which he could watch Reginald Banks at work.

At first he didn’t see Banks at the desk that he had occupied the day before. The other salesman was in place at his desk but no Banks. But Bosch waited patiently, and twenty minutes later Banks appeared, coming from a back room in the dealership and carrying a cup of coffee. He sat down, tapped the space bar on his keyboard and started making a series of phone calls, each time after running a finger across his computer screen. Bosch guessed he was cold-calling former customers, seeing if they were ready to trade that old tractor in.

Bosch watched for another half hour, working on his story as he watched. When the other salesman got busy with a live customer, Bosch made his move. He got out of his car and walked across the street to the dealership. He stepped into the showroom and moved to the all-terrain vehicle closest to where Banks sat at his desk talking on the phone.

Harry started circling the machine, which was a two-seat four-wheeler with a small flatbed and a roll bar. The price tag was on a molded plastic stand right next to it. As Bosch expected, Banks soon hung up his phone.

“You looking for a Gator?” he called from his desk.

Bosch turned and looked at him as if noticing him for the first time.

“I might be,” he said. “You don’t have a used one of these, do you?”

Banks got up and came over. He was wearing a sport coat and a tie pulled loose at the collar. He stood next to Bosch and looked at the ATV as if assessing it for the first time.