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BOSCH WAS SO deeply asleep that the first knock on the door barely penetrated his dream about the tunnels. He was moving endlessly through a dark and tight space with no beginning and no end.
On the second knock, he opened his eyes. He was on a bed in a strange room. It was dark, the curtains drawn, save for the light from the bathroom. He heard the click from the room’s door. He sat up.
“Don’t shoot!” he called out. “Don’t shoot!”
They opened the door, came in, and walked down the entrance hallway and into the room.
He saw it was Ballard, along with a man in a suit and two uniformed officers.
“Harry,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“Renée,” he said. “What are you—you came.”
She didn’t answer him. She turned to the men behind her and held her hands up in a stay-back gesture.
“He’s fine,” she said. “False alarm. Everything’s okay. You can all—”
“Are you sure, ma’am?” the suit said. “He looks confused.”
“You woke me up,” Bosch said. “Yeah, I’m confused.”
He checked his hands and clothes for blood but all were clean. He had fallen asleep in his clothes. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower after the long night’s cleanup.
The older of the two officers pushed past Ballard and entered the bedroom. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table and looked at Bosch, who was now sitting on the side of the bed. Bosch’s feet were bare and he was wearing a clean long-sleeved shirt and pants. He had not packed anything to sleep in.
“Sir, are you all right?” the officer asked.
“I’m fine,” Bosch said. “I’m just not used to people coming into my room in the middle of the night.”
“Sir, it’s almost noon. Have you ingested any drugs or alcohol?”
“No, nothing. I’m fine. I’m just … tired. I stayed up too late.”
“Would you like medical attention?”
“No, I don’t want medical attention.”
“Are you planning to harm yourself or others?”
Bosch forced a laugh and shook his head.
“Are you kidding? No, I have no plans to ‘harm’ anyone, including myself.”
“Okay, sir, we’re going to leave you with your colleague. Is that okay?”
“That’s okay. That would make me happy.”
“Okay, sir, you have a good day.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for the callout. I’m just a deep sleeper, I guess.”
The officer turned and headed to the door, followed by his partner. He had a radio mike on his shoulder. He turned his mouth toward it and reported to dispatch that they were clearingthis scene without incident. The man in the suit followed the officers out.
“Thanks, guys,” Ballard called after them. “Sorry for the false alarm.”
Bosch heard the door shut. He waited for Ballard to speak first.
“Harry, what the fuck?”
