Bosch fell silent. His daughter was very perceptive, and whenever she hit the target with him, he was half embarrassed and half in awe. He also knew that in terms of being robbed early, she was in the same boat. And she had said she, too, wanted to do what her father did. Bosch was both honored and scared by it. He secretly hoped that something else would come along—horses, boys, music, anything—and grab her intensity and interest and change her course.

So far nothing had. So he did all he could to help prepare her for the mission ahead.

Maddie cleared her tri-sectioned container and only chicken bones were left. She was a high-energy kid, and gone were the days when Bosch could expect to finish her plate. He gathered up all the trash and took it to the kitchen to dispose of. He then opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Fat Tire left over from his birthday.

When he came back out, Maddie was on the couch with her book.

“Hey, I have to leave super-early tomorrow,” he said. “Can you get up in the morning and make your lunch and everything?”

“Of course.”

“What will you have?”

“The usual. Ramen. And I’ll get a yogurt out of the machines.”

Noodles and bacteria-fermented milk. It wasn’t what Bosch would ever be able to consider lunch.

“How are you doing for money for the machines?”

“Good for the rest of this week.”

“What about that boy who was bothering you about not wearing makeup yet?”

“I avoid him. It’s no big deal, Dad, and it’s not ‘yet.’ I’m never wearing makeup.”

“Sorry, that’s what I meant.”

He waited, but that was the end of the discussion. He wondered if her saying the bullying was no big deal was actually her way of saying it was. He wished she would look up from the book when they talked, but she was on the last chapter. He let it go.

He took his beer out to the back deck so he could look out at the city. The air was cold and crisp. It made the lights in the canyon and down on the freeway sharper and clearer. Cold nights always made Bosch feel lonely. The chill worked its way into his backbone and held there, made him think about things he had lost over time.

He turned and looked in through the glass at his daughter on the couch. He watched her finish the book she was reading. He watched her cry when she got to the last page.

Chapter 13

13