Resurrection Walk

The shift boss at the prison denied Bosch’s request for an attorney-client meeting room because Bosch was not an attorney. He had to make a regular visitation request and then wait two hours before he heard his name called over a loudspeaker. He was ushered to a stool in front of a thick plexiglass window in a long line of stools and visitation booths very similar to the setup at Corcoran. The wait for Lucinda Sanz wasn’t long after that. They both took their phones off the hooks and spoke.

“Hello, Mr. Bosch.”

“Hello, Cindi. Call me Harry.”

“Okay, Harry. Is it over?”

“Is what over?”

“Did the judge turn Mr. Haller down?”

“Oh. No, nothing’s over. The hearing is happening. It’s this coming Monday. They’ll be transporting you to the city for it.”

Bosch saw a little bit of life return to her eyes. She had been prepared for the worst.

“I’m here because I want to show you some photos,” he said. “Remember you told us that it was a female deputy who wiped your hands and arms for gunshot residue?”

“Yes, a woman,” Lucinda said.

“I have some photos. I want to see if you recognize any of them as the woman who swabbed you.”

“Okay.”

“They wouldn’t let us meet in an attorney room with a table where I could spread them out like a lineup, so I’m going to hold up the photos one at a time. I want you to study all of them before you respond. Even if you’re sure about a photo, wait till I show you all six. Take your time. And then if you recognize one, you tell me by number one through six. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“All right, here goes.”

Bosch hung up the phone to make sure he would not hear Lucinda if she blurted out a number or other exclamation before he had shown her all the photos. He opened a manila file on the shelf in front of the window. The six photos were facedown in a stack. Each had a number written on the back. He held them up to the glass one at a time, did a silent five-second count, then lowered the photo and went on to the next. Lucinda leaned toward the glass to look closely at them. Bosch watched her eyes and saw recognition when he held up the fourth photo. It was immediate and clear. But Lucinda, who had let her phone hang loose on its cord, did not make any exclamation.

The photos were not face shots. They were surveillance shots taken surreptitiously with a long-lens camera handled by Cisco Wojciechowski. It had taken him nearly a week outside the Antelope Valley sheriff’s station with the camera and a radio scanner to identify and photograph the members of the anti-gang task force that at one time included Roberto Sanz. There were only two women currently on the team and only one of them had been in the unit when Roberto Sanz was assigned to it. Her photo was among the six Bosch was now showing Lucinda. The other women in the photos were of similar age and shown in similar candid situations but none of them were sheriff’s deputies. None were in uniform.

When he was finished showing them, he put the photos back in the file and closed it. He picked up the phone.

“Do you want me to show them again?” he asked.

“Number four,” Lucinda said. “That’s her. Four.”

“Are you sure?” Bosch said. “Do you want to look again?”

He kept his voice as deadpan as possible.

“No, it’s her,” Lucinda said. “She’s the one. I remember.”

“She’s the deputy who wiped your hands and your clothes with the GSR pads?” Bosch asked.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Yes. Four.”

“Percentage-wise, how sure are you?”

“One hundred percent. It’s her. Who is she?”

Bosch leaned toward the glass to take in as much of Lucinda’s side of the booth as possible. He looked past her shoulder and up. He saw the camera mounted on the upper wall that ran behind the booths where the convicts talked to their visitors. Lucinda’s identification of Stephanie Sanger would be on video, if needed.

Lucinda turned around, following Bosch’s sightline to the camera. She looked back at him.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing, really,” Bosch said. “Just wanted to see if there was a camera.”

“Why?”

“In case the identification you’ve made is challenged in court.”

“You mean like if I’m not there? Do you think I’m in danger because I identified her?”

Lucinda suddenly looked scared.

“No, I don’t think that,” he said quickly to reassure her. “I’m just covering all the bases. Normally these are done in a room without glass between us and you sign your name to the photo you pick. We can’t do that here. That’s all. Nothing’s going to happen to you, Cindi.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m sure. I just want everything to be bulletproof for when we get to court.”

“Okay, I trust you and Mr. Haller.”

“Thank you.”

“The one I picked, who is she?”

“Her name is Stephanie Sanger. She worked with your ex-husband.”

“Yes, she told me that.”

“Do you remember what else she said?”

“She just said they had to do the test so they could rule me out.”

“That was a trick to get you to do it.”

Bosch picked up the file containing the photos and held it up.

“When we go to court next week, you may be asked about this, okay?”

“Why?”