Page 128 of Resurrection Walk

“About time,” Bosch said.

“I thought we’d be following her all the way to the Antelope Valley and then some. Then have to look through her trash.”

“Me too. So, Applied Forensics?”

“Absolutely. I’ll call ahead so they’re ready for us. If we get this in now, we could have what we need by tomorrow.”

The light turned green and Bosch muscled the Navigator into the traffic lane in front of a car, garnering another angry horn rebuke from the driver. Bosch held his hand up, waved his thanks, and drove on.

As they headed toward Van Nuys, Bosch put things together.

“She broke into my house,” he said.

“Who did?” Arslanian asked.

“Sanger.”

“When was this?”

“Like seven months ago. I wasn’t sure till now. I smelled cigarette smoke when I came home and found the place open.”

“Did she take anything?”

“No. She just wanted me to know. It was an intimidation tactic.”

Bosch smiled and shook his head.

“But it didn’t work, because I wasn’t sure if I had left the door open and was just losing my mind,” he said. “You know, like dementia or something. I thought the cigarette smell might have been a side effect from the isotope they were putting in me.”

“Then I guess it must be nice to know there really was a break-in, which sounds weird said out loud.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Bosch thought about the police report that Maggie McFierce had used to embarrass him in court and suggest he was losing his mind. He now felt vindicated.

PART TWELVE

THE PROVING GROUND

44

IN THE MORNINGthe marshals moved me back to the federal courthouse on the seven o’clock jail bus. I then spent the next two hours in the main courthouse jail with other detainees awaiting transfer to specific courtrooms and their holding cells. I was wearing federal blues and was unsure what had happened to my clothes, wallet, and phone. I was eventually moved to the cell off Judge Coelho’s courtroom. Lucinda Sanz was already in the cell next to mine. We couldn’t see each other but we could hear each other.

“Mickey, are you okay?” she whispered.

“I’m fine,” I said. “How are you feeling, Cindi?”

“I’m good. I can’t believe they made you stay the whole night.”

“The judge wanted to make a point.”

Marshal Nate came into the holding area, unlocked my cell, and handed me a brown paper bag.

“Your clothes,” he said. “Get dressed. The judge wants to see you.”

I dug through the bag. My suit was crumpled into a ball on top of my shoes.

“Where’s my phone?” I said. “And my wallet and keys?”

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