“Okay, I have it,” Bonn said. “I looked it up in our digital archives. In the year previous to her death, as you say, Anneke was reporting and sending photos from Kuwait during Desert Storm. Several stories and photos we bought at the BT.”

“Okay. Anything about war crimes or atrocities, things like that?”

“Uh . . . no, I see nothing that is like that. She wrote stories about the people’s side of it. The people in Kuwait City. She had three photo essays . . .”

“What do you mean, ‘the people’s side’?”

“Life under fire. About the families who lost members. Stories like that.”

Bosch thought for a moment. Families who lost members . . . He knew that war crimes were so often atrocities committed against the innocents caught in the middle.

“I’ll tell you what,” he finally said. “Can you send me the links to the stories you’re looking at there?”

“Yes, I will do that. You will have to translate them.”

“Yes, I know.”

“How far back do you want me to go from her last story?”

“How about a year?”

“A year. Okay. That will be many stories.”

“That’s okay. Does Mr. Jannik have anything else? Can he remember anything else?”

He waited for the final question to be translated. He wanted to go. He wanted to get back to Pistol Pete.

“Mr. Jannik will think more about this,” Bonn said. “He makes a promise to check the website to see if he remembers more.”

“What website?”

“For Anneke.”

“What do you mean? There’s a website?”

“Yes, of course. It was made by her brother. He made this as a memorial for Anneke and he has many of her photographs and stories on there, you see.”

Bosch was silent a moment because he was embarrassed. He could blame it on Anneke’s brother for not telling him about the website but that would be passing the buck. He should have been savvy enough to ask.

“What is the web address?” he asked.

Bonn told him, spelling it out, and now Bosch finally had something to write down.

It was faster calling than going back in and having to get through security. Pistol Pete answered in two rings.

“It’s Bosch. Did you get something?”

“I told you on the message,” Sargent said.

His voice was flat. Bosch took it as bad news.

“I didn’t listen to it. I just called you back. What happened?”

Bosch held his breath.

“It’s pretty good news, actually. Got it all except for one digit. That narrows it down to ten possibilities.”

Bosch had worked previous gun cases where he had a lot less to go with. He still had his notebook out and he told Sargent to give him what he’d come up with off the gun. He wrote it down and read it back to confirm.

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