Page 1

PART ONE

The Red Halo

1

BOSCH WALKED BETWEEN the headstones, checking names as he passed. These days he suspected that he knew more people belowground than above. He moved slowly, using the cane for support.

He saw Talbot up ahead, standing at the foot of his first wife’s grave. It had been a while since Bosch had seen him. He had less hair and a thicker waist. As expected, he wasn’t happy to see Bosch approaching with his vase of fresh tulips.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bosch?” Talbot said.

“I could ask you the same thing, Talbot,” Bosch said.

“She’s my wife.”

“Was your wife.”

“Fuck you. Do you even still have a badge?”

“Lucky for guys like you, I hung it up a long time ago.”

“Then what the fuck? You bringing my wife flowers? You got a thing for dead women, Bosch?”

“Twenty-fifth anniversary. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here. Least of all the guy who put her in the grave.”

“Fuck off, Bosch. You’re a loser. And guess what — I come every year.”

“To gloat.”

“To mourn.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.”

Sarcasm delivered, Bosch looked down at the grave. The marker was simple and inexpensive.

TALBOT

1962–2001

Her husband hadn’t even put her first name on the stone.

“It’s under your skin, isn’t it?” Talbot said. “All these years… the case you couldn’t solve.”

“Nobody bats a thousand in homicide work, Talbot,” Bosch said. “But this one I did solve. I just didn’t make the arrest. There’s a difference.”

The two men held each other’s eyes in a serious stare-down. Talbot looked away first. The guilty man always does.

There was something different about him but Bosch couldn’t place it. It wasn’t the hair or the potbelly.

“You know, this is harassment,” Talbot said. “You and your baseless accusations. I had nothing to do with it, so why don’t you just get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.”

“Yeah. I’ll go. I’ll just leave the flowers. I remember the tulips in the house that day. Never figured out where they came from.”

Bosch bent over and put the vase down in the grass in front of the granite stone. He adjusted the angle so it offered the best display of the yellow and red flowers. When he straightened up, he was hit with a jolt of vertigo. He leaned heavily on the cane till it passed.

“You okay, old man?” Talbot asked. “That would be something, huh? You dying in a graveyard.”

“Yeah, something,” Bosch said. “I’ll leave you to it.”