Page 57 of Resurrection Walk

“No, man, I told you,” Silver said. “No names were mentioned. They weren’t that stupid.”

“Did Lucinda know about any of this?”

Silver lowered his eyes.

“I never told her,” he said. “I just told her to take the deal. That it was the only way.”

I thought I could see shame and regret in Silver’s eyes. Maybe he had believed at the time that Lucinda was guilty as charged and that the callers were putting a cap on what could blow up into another scandal for the sheriff’s department. But either way, Silver knew deep inside that he’d never be more than a hack lawyer from the Ord Street commune.

“You did all this based on phone calls from nameless people who claimed they were cops,” I said. “But how did you know the threats were legit?”

“Because they knew things,” Silver said. “Things that had never gotten out, that had to have come from the inside.”

“Like what?”

“Like they knew what Acosta could spill if I put him on the stand. That Roberto Sanz was no fucking hero that day at the shoot-out.”

I changed direction with Silver, using Bosch’s tactic of keeping a witness off balance with unexpected questions.

“Tell me about Agent MacIsaac,” I said.

“Who?” Silver asked.

Through a few phone calls Bosch had been able to learn MacIsaac’s full name and posting in the Bureau’s L.A. field office. That part of the document was fact and I was hopeful it would draw a response from Silver.

“FBI Special Agent Tom MacIsaac,” I said. “He’s the guy the U.S. attorney won’t allow me to talk to or subpoena. Did he ever show up around here to talk to you?”

“No, I never heard of him till now. What’s his —”

“He had a lengthy meeting with Roberto Sanz on the day he was killed. If you were any kind of an attorney, you would have found that out and not talked your client into a plea deal.”

Silver shook his head.

“Look, man, I keep telling you, I was threatened,” he said. “I had no choice.”

“So you turned around and gave your client no choice,” I said. “You talked her into the plea. You talked her into prison.”

“You weren’t there, man. You have no idea what kind of pressure was on me and what evidence they had on her. She was going down either way.”

“Sure, Frank. Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

I had an almost overwhelming desire to get away from Frank Silver and his office, which stank of failure and pork fried rice. But I stayed to hear him finish his confession.

“All right,” I said. “Go back to Angel Acosta and tell me everything you know. I need every detail you can remember. You do that and this motion never gets filed.”

I pointed to the prop doc on his desk.

“How do I know you won’t fuck me over in the end?” Silver asked.

“Well, buddy boy,” I said, “I guess you don’t.”

19

THE LINCOLN WASat the curb, Bosch behind the wheel, when I came out. I had completely broken the habit of jumping in the back and I got in the front seat without a second thought.

“Did it work?” Bosch asked.

“Yes and no,” I said. “He pretty much confirmed what we had already put together. But he said he didn’t know anything about MacIsaac or the FBI.”

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