He continued to look at the file, turning some of the pages, again just using a fingernail. Bosch knew he wasn’t really looking at the file. He was trying to assess what he had walked into and what he needed to do about it. Finally, he closed the file and put it under his arm.

“I think we’re going to take a little ride,” he said.

Bosch finally spoke, making a pitch he knew wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“You know you don’t have to do this, Sheriff. I’ve got nothing but my hunches and if you put them and a buck together, you won’t even be able to buy a cup of coffee at Starbucks.”

Drummond smiled without humor.

“I don’t know. I think a guy like you operates on a little more than his hunches.”

Bosch returned the humorless smile.

“You’d be surprised sometimes.”

Drummond turned and surveyed the room, making sure he hadn’t missed anything.

“Okay, Reg, grab Detective Bosch’s jacket. We’re going to take that drive now. We’ll use the detective’s car.”

The parking lot was deserted when they walked Bosch out to his rented Crown Vic. Bosch was put in the backseat and then Drummond gave Banks the keys and told him to drive. Drummond got in the back, behind Banks and next to Bosch.

“Where are we going?” Banks asked.

“Hammett Road,” Drummond said.

Banks pulled out of the lot and headed toward the 99 entrance ramp. Bosch looked over at Drummond, who still had his gun in his hand.

“How’d you know?” he asked.

In the darkness he could see Drummond’s contented smirk.

“You mean, how did I know you were sniffing around up here? Well, you made a few mistakes, Detective. First of all, you left muddy tracks across the helipad at Carl Cosgrove’s place last night. He saw them this morning and called me up. He said he had a prowler, and I sent out a couple of my guys to check it out.

“Then I get a call from Frank Dowler tonight telling me that our boy Reggie here is having drinks at the post with a guy looking to buy an IRG pistol, and the confluence of these things got me to thinking—”

“Drummer, this guy was conning me,” Banks said from the front seat, his eyes looking for Drummond’s in the mirror. “I didn’t know, man. I thought he was legit, so I called Frank to see if he wanted to sell his gun. Last time I talked to him he was looking for money.”

“I figured as much, Reggie. But Frank knows a few things you don’t know—plus he was nervous because his wife said a stranger had come by the house yesterday asking about him.”

He glanced at Bosch and nodded at him as if to say he knew he was the visitor.