Resurrection Walk

“Roberto Sanz,” he said. “You changed your name, moved away. I want to know why.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Landon said coldly.

“I understand that. But if you don’t talk to me, there will be a subpoena, and a judge will make you talk to me. Then it could go public. If you talk to me now, I can try to keep you out of it down the line. Your name, where you live — none of it should have to come out.”

She brought her free hand up and held it across her eyes.

“You’re putting me in danger,” she said. “Don’t you see that?”

“Danger from who?” Bosch asked.

“Them.”

Bosch was flying in the dark without instrumentation. He was simply following his instincts in what he had said so far. But Landon’s reactions here told him that he was clearly on the right path.

“The Cucos?” he asked. “Is that who you mean? We can protect you from them.”

The mere mention of the sheriff’s clique seemed to send a shudder through her body.

Bosch had been careful to keep his distance. But now he casually stepped closer.

“I can see to it that you have no part in what’s about to go down,” he said. “No one will ever know your new name or where you are. But you have to help me.”

“You found me,” Landon said. “They can find me.”

“They, whoever they are, won’t even know. This is just you and me. But you need to talk to me about the day Roberto got shot — what was going on, what he was into.”

“Have you talked to Agent MacIsaac?”

“Not yet. But I will. When I know more from you.”

Bosch didn’t recognize the name but he didn’t want to let Landon know that. It might undercut her confidence in the promise he had just made. But her calling MacIsaac an agent raised an immediate flag. It indicated that MacIsaac was a fed, which meant that any number of agencies in the federal sandbox could have been involved with Roberto Sanz. Even if Landon refused to cooperate, he now had a new lead to pursue.

“I have to think about this,” Landon said.

“Why?” Bosch said. “For how long?”

“Just give me today,” she said. “Give me a number and I’ll call you in the morning.”

Bosch knew better than to let a potential witness go off to think about things. Fears could multiply, legal advisers could be pulled into the decision. You never let a fish off the hook.

“Can we just talk now, off the record?” Bosch said. “I won’t record it. I won’t even take notes. I need to know about that day. A woman who may be innocent — a mother — is in prison. For her, every single day, every hour, is a nightmare. You knew Eric, her son. She needs to be with him to raise him right.”

“But I followed the case and she pleaded guilty,” Landon said. “Now she says she’s innocent?”

“She pleaded no contest to a reduced charge of manslaughter. Because she had to risk life imprisonment in a trial.”

Landon nodded as though she understood Lucinda Sanz’s plight.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this over with. Where?”

“We can sit in my car,” Bosch said. “Or yours. Or find a coffee shop to sit in.”

“My car. I don’t want to do this in public.”

“Then your car it is.”

16

Haller didn’t return the call until Bosch was driving up Woodrow Wilson to his house, where he planned to rest. The flow of adrenaline that had kicked in once Madison Landon started talking about the day Roberto Sanz was murdered had tapered off and left him exhausted. Before leaving the parking lot at Vroman’s, he had texted Cisco to thank him once again for finding Landon and then he’d put in the call to Haller. Forty minutes later, Bosch was almost home and ready to go horizontal for an hour or so, when Haller called back.

“Sorry, was in court. What’s up?”

“Sanz was late bringing his son home to Lucinda because he was with the FBI.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“You there, Mick?”

“Yes, just digesting this. Who told you this, the girlfriend?”

“Yes. Off the record. She wants no part of this. She’s scared.”

“Of who?”

“The Cucos.”

“Who were the agents? Did you get any names?”

“One partial. Agent MacIsaac. It won’t be hard to get a full name and assignment. I’m going to start making calls once I get home.”

“This changes everything, you know.”

“How so?”

“MacIsaac won’t talk to you. I can pretty much guarantee that. And the feds routinely swat state court subpoenas away like Mookie Betts swats fastballs over the plate. Did the girlfriend — what’s her new name again?”

“Madison Landon.”

“Did Madison Landon know what the meeting with Agent MacIsaac was about?”

“No, she just knew it was serious. Sanz told her he was ‘jammed up’ on something — his words — and had to talk to the FBI. The only reason she knew the name MacIsaac was that she heard Sanz say it on a call when they were setting up the meeting that day.”

Haller went silent again. Bosch knew he was thinking of the possible legal scenarios this new information presented. He pulled the Cherokee into the carport of his house. He killed the engine but stayed seated, phone to his ear.

“So, what are you thinking?” he finally prompted.