Resurrection Walk

“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.”

Fontaine just stared at us for a few moments.

“Gentlemen, we’re done here,” she finally said. “I have nothing more to say about those cases. They’re closed. Justice was done. And I’m going to be late for court.”

She started stacking files on her desk and getting ready to go.

“I’d rather talk now than have to subpoena you,” I said.

“Well, good luck with that,” Fontaine said.

“The most damning piece of evidence you had on her was the GSR. I’ll tell you right now, we can blow that up.”

“You’re a defense lawyer. You can find a so-called expert to say whatever you want. But over here we deal in facts, and the fact is she shot her ex-husband and is where she deserves to be.”

She stood up and dumped her gathered files into a leather bag with initials in gold near the handle. Bosch started to stand up. But I didn’t.

“I’d hate to see you dragged through the shit that’s about to come out,” I said. “When this gets to court.”

“Is that a threat?” Fontaine asked.

“It’s more like a choice. Work with us to find the truth. Or work against us and hide it.”

“That’ll be the day, when I find a defense attorney really interested in the truth. Now, you need to go or I’m going to call security to escort you out.”

I took my time standing up, holding her angry stare as I did.

“Just remember,” I said. “We gave you the choice.”

“Just go,” she said loudly. “Now!”

Bosch and I didn’t speak until we were on the elevator going down.

“I’d say you succeeded in rattling her cage,” Bosch said.

“Hers and a few others down the line, I’m sure,” I said.

“Are we ready for that? What happened to ‘no footprints’?”

“Changing course. Besides, somebody out there already knows what we’re doing.”

“How do you know that?”

“Easy. Somebody broke into your house because they wanted us to know.”

Bosch nodded and we were silent while the old elevator made its way down.

When we stepped out into the lobby, Bosch brought up what I had been mulling over myself.

“So,” he said. “Fontaine. Think she’s bent or is she a victim?”

“Good question,” I said. “They threatened the defense attorney into doing what they wanted. Maybe they did it with the prosecutor too. Or maybe she’s just as corrupt as the Cucos.”

“Maybe it’s somewhere in the middle. She was pressured into protecting the sheriff’s department from scandal. It is, after all, the sister agency to the DA’s office.”

“I think you’re being too kind, Harry. You gotta remember, two years after this shit went down, she gets a transfer from Antelope fucking Valley to Major Crimes downtown. That feels like a payoff to me.”

“True, I guess.”

“We can’t guess. We have to have it down solid before we get into court.”

“You’ll subpoena her as a witness?”

“Not with what we know now. Too many things that aren’t clear. It would be too dangerous to bring her in. No telling what she’d say on the stand.”

We pushed through the heavy doors onto Temple Street and headed back to the Lincoln.

20