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“The only thing I care about right now is getting out of here,” Bosch replied.
“Well, you’re free to go. I have a prescription waiting for you at the hospital pharmacy. Take it only to manage pain. If there is no pain, don’t take it. Stay sharp.”
“Got it. And thanks, Doc. I appreciate it.”
“Doin’ my job, just like you were doin’ yours. But you should come back in a couple days and let me look at that, make sure there’s no infection.”
“I will. Thank you. What about the stitches?”
“We’ll check them then, but I think we’ll need to keep them in longer. You don’t want that ear flopping over like my dog’s.”
“Right.”
Ten minutes later, Bosch was in Ballard’s car and they were pulling out of the emergency vehicle parking area outside the ER entrance. He had decided not to pick up the prescription and would manage the pain with over-the-counter measures.
“Let’s get you home,” Ballard said.
“Go by the scene first,” Bosch said. “I want to see it.”
“Harry, they’re not going to want you there.”
“Just a drive-by. It’s five minutes out of the way, tops.”
“All right. But no stopping.”
“Doesn’t FID or Santa Monica want to talk to you?”
“They already did. There will be more tomorrow but I was cleared to leave.”
“Maddie said you had something to tell me.”
“Yeah, the box.”
“What box?”
“There was a box in the trunk of the BMW.”
“The trunk was open when I saw the car in the alley. There could have been a box but I didn’t see it. How big is it?”
“Sixteen by sixteen by six—it said it on the box. It’s a shipping box like they sell in his shop.”
“I could’ve missed it. What’s in it?”
“It’s filled with keepsakes. From his kills. There were more victims, most likely between Pearlman and Wilson, and then afterward. Probably a lot, and we’ll be going through the box for a long time.”
“Damn.”
“And it’s probably why he did himself at the end.”
“Wait a minute, what?”
“He killed himself.”
“No, I hit him. I saw it.”
“You did, but that wasn’t the fatal shot. You knocked him down in front of your car. But then he put the gun in his mouth. It was his last bullet.”
Bosch thought about the shooting. It had been so quickand intense that it was hard for him to remember every microsecond of detail. He knew the first shot from Rawls went through the windshield and ripped through his ear. He returned fire, getting off half a clip. The windshield shattered, allowing his remaining shots to fly true as Rawls continued his charge and fired back. One round hit Rawls in the right shoulder and he went down. He fell out of sight, and Bosch remembered hearing the last shot but didn’t realize it was self-inflicted.
