BOSCH WENT THROUGH he fifth-floor door to the Internal Affairs Division and found no one behind the counter. He waited a few moments for Toliver to show up since Irving had just ordered him to drive Bosch home, but the young IAD detective never showed. Bosch figured it was just one more mind game they were trying to play with him. He didn’t want to walk around the counter and have to find Toliver so he just yelled his name out. Behind the counter was a door that was slightly ajar and he was reasonably sure Toliver heard the call.
But the person who stepped through the door was Brockman. He stared at Bosch for a long moment without saying anything.
“Look, Brockman, Toliver is supposed to run me home,” Bosch said to him. “I don’t want anything else to do with you.”
“Yeah, well, that’s too bad.”
“Just get Toliver.”
“You better watch out for me, Bosch.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be watching.”
“Yeah, and you won’t see me coming.”
Bosch nodded and looked past him to the door where he expected Toliver to step out any moment. He just wanted to diffuse the situation and get his ride home. He considered walking out and catching a cab, but he knew in rush hour it would probably cost him fifty bucks. He didn’t have it on him. Plus, he liked the idea of having an IAD shine chauffeur him home.
“Hey, killer?”
Bosch looked back at Brockman. He was getting tired of this.
“What’s it like to fuck another killer? Must really be something, to go all the way to Florida for it.”
Bosch tried to stay cool but he felt his face betray himself. For he suddenly knew who and what Brockman was talking about.
“What are you talking about?”
Brockman’s face lit up with a bully’s delight as he read Bosch’s surprised look.
“Oooh, baby! She didn’t even bother telling you, did she?”
“Tell me what?”
Bosch wanted to reach over the counter and drag Brockman across it but at least outwardly he maintained his cool.
“Tell you what? I’ll tell you what. I think your whole story stinks and I’m going to bust it open. Then Mr. Clean upstairs isn’t going to be able to protect you.”
“He said you were told to leave me alone, that I was clear.”
“Fuck him and fuck you. When I come in with your alibi in a bag, he’s not going to have a choice but to cut you loose.”
Toliver stepped through the doorway behind the counter. He was holding a set of car keys in his hands. He stood silently behind Brockman with his eyes down.
“First thing I did was run her on the computer,” Brockman said. “She’s got a record, Bosch. You didn’t know that? She’s a killer, just like you. Takes one to know one, I guess. Nice couple.”
Bosch wanted to ask a thousand questions but he wouldn’t ask any of this man. He felt a deep void opening inside as he began jettisoning his feelings for Jazz. He realized that she had left all the signs out for him but he hadn’t read them. Even so, the feeling that descended on him with the strongest grip was one of betrayal.
Bosch pointedly ignored Brockman and looked at Toliver.
“Hey, kid, you going to give me a ride or what?”
Toliver moved around the counter without answering.
“Bosch, I already got you on an association beef,” Brockman said. “But I’m not satisfied.”
Bosch went to the hallway door and opened it. It was against LAPD regulations to associate with known criminals. Whether Brockman could make a charge like that stick was the least of Bosch’s worries. He headed out the door with Toliver following. Before it closed Brockman yelled after them.
“Give her a kiss for me, killer.”