Page 59 of Resurrection Walk

“You’re going to ask about this? The GSR?”

“Yeah, without giving anything away.”

Bosch nodded and we opened our doors and got out.

The Hall of Justice was across from the Criminal Courts Building. It had at one time housed the sheriff’s department, and its top three floors were the county jail. But then the sheriff’s department moved most of its operations out to the STARS Center in Whittier and a county jail was built. The building was repurposed and the jail floors were turned into offices for prosecutors who worked cases in the courtrooms across the street.

Andrea Fontaine was not welcoming of our unscheduled visit. She met us in a waiting area after being notified by the receptionist of our request for an audience. We introduced ourselves and she walked us back to her office, explaining that she had only a few minutes before she needed to leave for a hearing in a courtroom across the street.

“That’s okay,” I said. “We only need a few minutes.”

She led us into an office that was smaller than Frank Silver’s and clearly had once been a cell: three walls of concrete block and a fourth behind her desk that was a latticework of iron bars and glass with no opening bigger than six inches square.

The office was neat and not as cramped as Silver’s. There was room for two chairs in front of her desk and we all sat down.

“I don’t think we have a case together, do we?” Fontaine asked.

“Uh, not yet,” I said.

“That sounds mysterious. What’s this about?”

“Two cases you handled during your Antelope Valley days.”

“I was moved down here four years ago. Which cases?”

“Angel Acosta and Lucinda Sanz. I’m sure they’re on your greatest-hits list.”

Fontaine tried to keep a poker face but I could see the flare of fear enter her eyes.

“I remember Sanz, of course,” she said. “She killed a deputy I actually knew. It’s rare you get a case where you know the victim. And Acosta… help me with that one. It rings a bell but I can’t place it.”

“The ambush at the Flip’s burger stand the year before Sanz was killed,” I said. “The shoot-out?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you. Why are you asking about those cases? They were both closed with dispositions. Guilty people pleading guilty.”

“Well, we’re not so sure about that. The guilty part.”

“On which one?”

“Lucinda Sanz.”

“You’re going to challenge that conviction? She got a great deal. You want to risk getting a redo? If we go to trial she could end up with a life sentence. With what she’s got now, she’ll be out in, what, four or five more years? Maybe even sooner.”

“Four and a half, actually. But she says she didn’t do it. And she wants out now.”

“And you believe her?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Fontaine turned her eyes to Bosch.

“What about you, Bosch?” she asked. “You worked homicide.”

“Doesn’t matter what I believe,” Bosch said. “The evidence isn’t there for conviction.”

“Then why did she plead guilty?” Fontaine asked.

“Because she had no choice,” I said. “And actually, she pled nolo. There’s a difference.”

---