"The Verloren house," Bosch said. "And let's hurry."
"What are you thinking?"
"I've been thinking about the picture they ran in the paper, with Muriel sitting on the bed. It showed how the room was still the same, you know?"
Rider thought for a moment and then nodded.
"Yeah."
Rider understood. The photo showed that Rebecca's room was unchanged since the night she was taken. Seeing it might trigger something in Stoddard. A desire for something lost long ago. The photo was like an oasis, it was a reminder of a perfect place where nothing had gone wrong.
Rider pinned the accelerator and the car lurched forward. Bosch opened his cell, called dispatch and called for another backup unit to meet them at Muriel Verloren's house. He also updated the bulletin on Stoddard, describing him now as armed and dangerous and possibly 5150-meaning mentally unstable. He knew as he closed the phone that he and Rider were close to the Verloren home and would get there first. His next call was to Muriel Verloren but there was no answer. When the message service picked up he closed his phone.
"No answer."
They turned the corner onto Red Mesa Way five minutes later and Bosch's eyes immediately locked on the silver car parked at a haphazard angle against the curb in front of the Verloren house. It was the Lexus that had come at him in the school parking lot. Rider stopped next to the car and once again they emerged quickly, with weapons ready.
The front door of the house was ajar. Using hand signals they took stances on either side of it. Bosch then pushed the door open and went in first. Rider followed and they immediately moved into the living room.
Muriel Verloren was on the floor. There was a cardboard box and other packing supplies next to her. Brown packing tape had been wrapped several times around her head and face as a gag, and used to bind her hands and ankles. Rider propped her up against the couch and held a finger up to her lips.
"Muriel, is he in the house?" she whispered.
Muriel nodded, her eyes wide and wild.
"Rebecca's room?"
Muriel nodded again.
"Have you heard a gunshot?"
Muriel shook her head no and emitted a muffled sound that would have been a scream if not for the tape across her mouth.
"You have to be quiet," Rider whispered. "If I take off the tape you have to be very quiet."
Muriel nodded intensely and Rider started working on the tape. Bosch huddled in close.
"I'm going up to the room."
"Wait, Harry," Rider ordered, her voice louder than a whisper. "We go up together. Get her ankles."
Bosch started working on the tape binding Muriel's feet together. Rider finally worked the tape loose from Muriel's mouth and pulled it down over her chin. She shooshed her soothingly as she did this.
"It's Becky's teacher," Muriel whispered, her voice intense but not loud. "He's got a gun."
Rider started working on her wrists.
"Okay," she said. "We're going to deal with it."
"What is he doing?" Muriel asked. "Is he the one?"
"Yes, he's the one."
Muriel Verloren let out a long, loud and anguished sigh. Her hands and feet were now loose and they helped her up to her feet.
"We're going up there," Rider told her. "We need you to get out of the house."
They started ushering her toward the entrance hallway.
"I can't leave. He's in her room. I can't -"
"You have to leave, Muriel," Bosch whispered harshly. "It's not safe here. Go to a neighbor's house."
"I don't know my neighbors."
"Muriel, you have to get out," Rider said. "Go down the street. More police are on the way. Wave them down and tell them we're inside already."
They pushed her through the open front door and then closed it behind her.
"Don't let him ruin her room!" they heard her plead from the other side. "It's all I have left!"
Bosch and Rider made their way to the back hallway and went up the stairway as quietly as they could. They took positions on either side of the door to Rebecca's bedroom.
Bosch looked across at Rider. They both knew there was little time. When backup units arrived the situation would change. It was a classic suicide-by-police setup. This was the one chance they might have of getting to Stoddard before he or a SWAT cop put a bullet into his brain.
Rider pointed to the doorknob and Bosch reached out and tried to silently turn it. He shook his head. The door was locked.
They used hand signals to outline a plan, nodded when they were ready, and then Bosch stepped back into the hallway and prepared to drive his heel into the door next to the knob. He knew he had to do it with one kick. They would lose the advantage of surprise after that.
"Who's out there?"
It was Stoddard, his voice coming through the door. Bosch looked at Rider. So much for the element of surprise. He pointed to her and gave her the silent sign. He would do the talking.
"Mr. Stoddard, it's Detective Bosch. How are you doing?"
"Not too good."
"Yeah, things have sort of gotten out of hand, haven't they?"
Stoddard didn't answer.
"Tell you what," Bosch said. "You really need to think about putting the gun down and coming out. You're lucky I'm here. I just came to check on Mrs. Verloren. But my partner and the SWAT team are going to be here soon. You don't want to tangle with SWAT. Now is the time to come out."
"I just want you to know I loved her, that's all."
Bosch hesitated before speaking. He glanced over at Rider and then back at the door. He could go two ways with Stoddard. He could work on getting a confession right now or he could work on talking him out of the house and saving his life. Both things were possible but maybe not likely.
"So what happened?" he asked.
There was a long silence before Stoddard spoke.
"What happened was she wanted to keep the baby and she didn't understand how that would ruin everything. We had to get rid of it, and then afterward she changed her mind."
"About the baby?"
"About me. About all of it."
Bosch didn't respond. After a few moments Stoddard spoke again.
"I loved her."
"But you killed her."
"I made mistakes."
"Like that night?"
"I don't want to talk about that night. I want to remember all the times before that night."
"I guess I don't blame you."
Bosch looked at Rider and held up three fingers. They were going to go on a three count. Rider nodded. She was ready.
Bosch dropped one finger.
"You know what I don't get, Mr. Stoddard?"
He dropped the second finger.
"What?" Stoddard asked.
Bosch dropped the third finger, then raised his right leg and drove it into the door. It was a hollow-interior door. It gave way easily and swung open with a crash. Bosch's momentum took him into the bedroom right behind it. He raised his gun and turned toward the bed.
Stoddard wasn't there.
Bosch continued his turn, catching a glimpse of Stoddard in the mirror. He was standing in the corner to the other side of the door. He was raising the muzzle of a long-barreled revolver to his mouth.
Bosch heard Rider shout and her body came through the door at full speed as she threw herself into Stoddard.
The crack of a gunshot shook the room as Rider and Stoddard went down to the floor. The revolver fell from Stoddard's hand and clattered onto the floor. Bosch moved quickly to them and dropped his weight onto Stoddard as Rider rolled off him.
"Kiz, you hit?"
There was no answer. Bosch tried to look at her while keeping Stoddard under control. Rider was holding one hand to the left side of her head.
"Kiz?"
"I'm not hit!" she yelled. "I think I'm just deaf in one ear."
Stoddard tried to get up, even with Bosch's weight on top of him.
"Please!" he said.
/> Bosch used his forearm to knock one of Stoddard's arms out from supporting him. Stoddard's chest hit the floor and Bosch quickly pulled the arm back and cuffed it. After a minor struggle he pulled the other arm back and completed the cuffing. He then leaned down and spoke to Stoddard.
"Please what?"
"Please let me die."
Bosch got up and pulled Stoddard to his feet.
"That would be too easy for you, Stoddard. That would be like letting you get away all over again."
Bosch looked over at Rider, who had gotten to her feet. He could see that some of her hair had been singed by the gun's discharge. It had been that close.
"You going to be okay?"
"As soon as the ringing stops."
Bosch looked up and saw the bullet hole in the ceiling. He could hear sirens coming. He grabbed Stoddard by the elbow and pulled him toward the bedroom's door.
"I'm going to go down and put this guy in a car. We'll book him at Devonshire, hold him there until the arraignment."
Rider nodded but Bosch could tell she was still dealing with what had just happened. The ringing in her ear was a reminder of how close it had been.
Bosch held Stoddard by the arm as he walked him down the steps. When they got to the living room, Stoddard spoke with a desperation in his voice.
"You could do it now."
"Do what?"
"Shoot me. Say I ran. Take one of the cuffs off and say I got loose. You want to kill me, don't you?"
Bosch stopped and looked at him.
"Yes, I'd want to kill you. But that would be too good for you. You are going to have to pay for what you did to that girl and her family. And just putting you down right here wouldn't even cover the interest on seventeen years."
Bosch roughly pushed him toward the door. They stepped out onto the front lawn just as a patrol car pulled to a stop and cut its siren. Bosch could tell by the streamlined light bar across the roof that it was one of the new cars he had heard about, with state-of-the-art equipment. The department could afford only a few of them in each budget cycle.
The car gave Bosch an idea. He raised his hand and circled his finger in the air, giving the all-clear sign.
As he walked Stoddard toward the car he saw Muriel Verloren walking down the middle of the street to her house. She was staring at Stoddard. Her mouth was wide open as if in a silent scream of horror. She started running toward them.
41
BOSCH RODE in the backseat of the patrol car with Stoddard on the way to Devonshire Division. Rider was left behind at the Verloren house to calm Muriel and to be checked out herself by paramedics. When they gave her the okay she would drive Bosch's car to the station.
The trip to the division would only take ten minutes. Bosch knew he had to quickly take a shot at getting Stoddard talking. The first thing he did was read the school principal his rights. Stoddard had made some admissions while holed up in Rebecca Verloren's bedroom, but whether they could be used in court was open to question because they had not been recorded and he had not been forewarned about his rights, which included remaining silent.
After reading the Miranda warning off a business card he had borrowed earlier from Rider, Bosch simply asked, "Now, do you want to talk to me?"
Stoddard was leaning forward because his hands were still cuffed behind his back. His chin was almost down to his chest.
"What is there to say?" he asked.
"I don't know. I mean, I don't need you to talk. We've got you. Actions and evidence-we've got all we need. I just thought you might want to explain things, that's all. At a point like this a lot of people just want to explain themselves."
Stoddard didn't respond at first. The car was heading east on Devonshire Boulevard. The station was a couple miles ahead. Earlier, when he had conferred with the two patrolmen outside of the car, Bosch had told the driver to take it slow.
"It's funny," Stoddard finally said.
"What is?"
"I'm a science teacher, you know? I mean, before I was principal I taught science. I was head of the science department."
"Uh-huh."
"And I taught my students about DNA. I always told them that it was the secret of life. Decode DNA and you decode life itself."
"Uh-huh."
"And now . . . now, well, it's used to decode death. By you people. It's the secret of life. It's the secret of death. I don't know. I guess it's not really funny. It's more ironic in my case."
"If you say so."
"A guy who taught DNA gets caught by DNA."
Stoddard started to laugh.
"Hey, that's a good headline," he said. "Make sure you tell them that."
Bosch reached over and used a key to unlock Stoddard's cuffs. He then relocked his wrists in front of his body so that he could sit up.
"Back there at the house, you said you loved her," Bosch said.
Stoddard nodded.
"I did. I still do."
"Funny way of showing it, wasn't it?"
"It wasn't planned. Nothing was planned that night. I had been watching her, that's all. Whenever I could, I watched her. I drove by all the time. I followed her when she got to take the car. I watched her at work, too."
"And all the time you had a gun."
"No, the gun was for me, not her. But . . ."
"You found out it was easier to kill her instead of yourself."
"That night . . . I saw the garage door was open. I went in. I wasn't sure why. I thought I was going to use the gun on myself. On her bed. It would be my way of showing her my devotion."
"But you went under the bed instead of on top of it."
"I had to think."
"Where was Mackey?"
"Mackey? I don't know where he was."
"He wasn't with you? He didn't help you?"
"He gave me the gun. We made a deal. The gun for the grade. I was his teacher. And his tutor. It was my summer job."
"But he wasn't with you that night? You carried her up the hill by yourself?"
Stoddard's eyes were open and staring into the distance even though their focus was only on the back of the front seat.
"I was strong back then," he said in a whisper.
The patrol car pulled through the opening in the concrete block wall that surrounded the back of Devonshire Division. Stoddard looked out the window. Seeing all of the patrol cars and the back of the station must have brought an awakening to him. He realized his situation.
"I don't want to talk anymore," he said.
"That's fine," Bosch said. "We'll put you in a holding room and get you a lawyer if you want."
The car stopped in front of a set of double doors and Bosch got out. He came around and got Stoddard out and then walked him in through the doors. The detective bureau was on the second floor. They took an elevator and were met by the lieutenant in charge of Devonshire detectives. Bosch had called him from the Verloren house. An interview room was waiting for Stoddard. Bosch put him in a seat and cuffed one of his wrists to a metal ring bolted to the center of the table.
"Sit tight," Bosch said. "I'll be back."
At the door, he looked back at Stoddard. He decided to make one last play.
"And for what it's worth, I think your story is bullshit," he said.
Stoddard looked at him, surprise on his face.
"What do you mean? I loved her. I didn't want -"
"You stalked her with one purpose. To kill her. She rejected you and you couldn't take it, so you wanted her dead. And now seventeen years later you're going to try to tell it different, like it's Romeo and Juliet or something. You're a coward, Stoddard. You stalked her and killed her and you should own up to it."
"No, you're wrong. I had the gun for myself."
Bosch came back into the room and leaned down on the table.
"Yeah? What about the stun gun, Stoddard? Was that for yourself, too? You left that out of your story, didn't you? Why'd you need a stun gun if you went in there to kill yourself?"
; Stoddard was silent. It was almost as if after seventeen years he had been able to erase the Professional 100 from his memory.
"We got first degree and we got lying in wait," Bosch said. "You're going down for the whole ride, Stoddard. You were never going to kill yourself. Back then, or even today."