Bosch understood the impossibility of Wright's situation.
"I'm pulling up now," he said. "I'll see you when you get here."
"Two minutes."
Bosch closed the phone. McPherson asked him what Wright had said and he quickly filled her in as he pulled the car to a stop behind a patrol car.
Bosch badged his way under the yellow tape and McPherson did the same. Because the shooting had occurred only twenty-five minutes earlier, the crime scene was largely inhabited by uniformed officers--the first responders--and was chaotic. Bosch found a patrol sergeant issuing orders regarding crime scene protection and went to him.
"Sergeant, Harry Bosch, RHD. Who is taking this investigation?"
"Isn't it you?"
"No, I'm on a related case. But this one won't be mine."
"Then I don't know, Bosch. I was told RHD will handle."
"Okay, then they're still on their way. Who's inside?"
"Couple guys from Central Division. Roche and Stout."
Babysitters, Bosch thought. As soon as RHD moved in, they would be moved out. He pulled his phone and called his lieutenant.
"Gandle."
"Lieutenant, who's taking the four on the floor by the Kyoto?"
"Bosch? Where are you?"
"At the scene. It was my guy from the trial. Jessup."
"Shit, what went wrong?"
"I don't know. Who are you sending and where the hell are they?"
"I'm sending four. Penzler, Kirshbaum, Krikorian and Russell. But they were all at lunch up at Birds. I'm coming over, too, but you don't have to be there, Harry."
"I know. I'm not staying long."
Bosch closed the phone and looked around for McPherson. He had lost her in the confusion of the crime scene. He spotted her crouching down next to a man sitting on the sidewalk curb in front of the bail-bonds shop next door to Royce's office. Bosch recognized him from the night he and McPherson rode on the surveillance of Jessup. There was blood on his hands and shirt from his efforts to save his partner. Bosch went to them.
"... he went to his car when they got back here. For just a minute. Got in and then got out. He then went into the office. Right away we heard shots. We moved and Manny got hit as soon as we opened the door. I got off a couple rounds but I had to try to help Manny..."
"So Jessup must've gotten the gun from his car, right?"
"Must've. They've got the metal detectors at the courthouse. He didn't have it in court today."
"But you never saw it?"
"No, never saw the weapon. If we had seen it, we would've done something."
Bosch left them there and went to the door of Royce and Associates. He got there just as Lieutenant Wright did. Together they entered.
"Oh, my God," Wright said when he saw his man on the floor just inside the front door.
"What was his name?" Bosch asked.
"Manuel Branson. He's got two kids and I have to go tell his wife."
Branson was on his back. He had bullet entry wounds on the left side of his neck and upper left cheek. There had been a lot of blood. The neck shot appeared to have sliced through the carotid artery.
Bosch left Wright there and moved past a reception desk and down a hallway on the right side. There was a wall of glass that looked into a boardroom with doors on both ends. The rest of the victims were in here, along with two detectives who wore gloves and booties and were taking notes on clipboards. Roche and Stout. Bosch stood in the first doorway of the room but did not enter. The two detectives looked at him.
"Who are you?" one asked.
"Bosch, RHD."
"You taking this?"
"Not exactly. I'm on something related. The others are coming."
"Christ, we're only two blocks from the PAB."
"They weren't there. They were at lunch up in Hollywood. But don't worry, they'll get here. It's not like these people are going anywhere."
Bosch looked at the bodies. Clive Royce sat dead in a chair at the head of a long board table. His head was snapped back as if he were looking at the ceiling. There was a bloodless bullet hole in the center of his forehead. Blood from the exit wound at the back of his head had poured down the back of his jacket and chair.
The investigator, Karen Revelle, was on the floor on the other side of the room near the other door. It appeared that she had tried to make a run for it before being hit by gunfire. She was facedown and Bosch could not see where or how many times she had been hit.
Royce's pretty associate counsel, whose name Bosch could not remember, was no longer pretty. Her body was in a seat diagonal to Royce, her upper body down on the table, an entry wound at the back of her head. The bullet had exited below her right eye and destroyed her face. There was always more damage coming out than going in.
"What do you think?" asked one of the Central guys.
"Looks like he came in shooting. Hit these two first and then tagged the other as she made a run for the door. Then backed into the hall and opened up on the SIS guys as they came in."
"Yeah. Looks that way."
"I'm going to check the rest of the place out."
Bosch continued down the hall and looked through open doors into empty offices. There were nameplates on the wall outside the doors and he was reminded that Royce's associate was named Denise Graydon.
The hallway ended at a break room, where there was a kitchenette with a refrigerator and a microwave. There was another communal table here. And an exit door that was three inches ajar.
Bosch used his elbow to push the door open. He stepped into an alley lined with trash bins. He looked both ways and saw a pay parking lot a half block down to his right. He assumed it was the lot where Jessup had parked his car and had gone to retrieve the gun.
He went back inside and this time took a longer look in each of the offices. He knew from experience that he was treading in a gray area here. This was a law office, and whether the lawyers were dead or not, their clients were still entitled to privacy and attorney-client privilege. Bosch touched nothing and opened no drawer or file. He simply moved his eyes over the surface of things, seeing and reading what was in plain sight.
When he was in Revelle's office he was joined by McPherson.
"What are you doing?"
"Just looking."
"We might have a problem going into any of their offices. As an officer of the court I can't--"
"Then wait outside. Like I said, I'm just looking. I am making sure the premises are secure."
"Whatever. I'll be out front. The media's all over the place out there now. It's a circus."
Bosch was leaning over Revelle's desk. He didn't look up.
"Good for them."
McPherson left the room at the same moment Bosch read something off a legal pad that was on top of a stack of files on the side of the desk near the phone.
"Maggie? Come back here."
She returned.
"Take a look at this."
McPherson came around the desk and bent over to read the notes on the top page of the pad. The page was covered with what looked like random notes, phone numbers and names. Some were circled, others scratched out. It looked like a pad Revelle jotted on while on the phone.
"What?" McPherson asked.
Without touching the pad, Bosch pointed to a notation in the bottom right corner. All it said was Checkers--804. But that was enough.
"Shit!" McPherson said. "Sarah isn't even registered under her name. How did Revelle get this?"
"She must've followed us back after court, paid somebody for the room number. We have to assume that Jessup has this information."
Bosch pulled his phone and called Mickey Haller on speed dial.
"It's Bosch. You still have Sarah with you?"
"Yes, she's here in court. We're waiting for the judge."
"Look, don't scare her but she can't go back to the hotel."
"All right. How come?"
"Because there's an indication here that Jessup has that l
ocation. We'll be setting up on it."
"What do I do, then?"
"I'll be sending a protection team to the court--for both of you. They'll know what to do."
"They can cover her. I don't need it."
"That'll be your choice. My advice is you take it."
He closed the phone and looked at McPherson.
"I gotta get a protection team over there. I want you to take my car and get my daughter and your daughter and go somewhere safe. You call me then and I'll send a team to you, too."
"My car's two blocks from here. I can just--"
"That'll waste too much time. Take mine and go now. I'll call the school and tell them you're coming for Maddie."
"Okay."
"Thank you. Call me when you have--"
They heard shouting from the front of the office suite. Angry male voices. Bosch knew they came from the friends of Manny Branson. They were seeing their fallen comrade on the floor and getting fueled with outrage and the scent of blood for the hunt.
"Let's go," he said.
They moved back through the suite to the front. Bosch saw Wright standing just outside the front door, consoling two SIS men with angry, tear-streaked faces. Bosch made his way around Branson's body and out the door. He tapped Wright on the elbow.
"I need a moment, Lieutenant."
Wright broke away from his two men and followed. Bosch walked a few yards to where they could speak privately. But he need not have worried about being overheard. In the sky above, there were at least four media choppers circling over the crime scene and laying down a layer of camouflage sound that would make any conversation on the block private.
"I need two of your best men," Bosch said, leaning toward Wright's ear.
"Okay. What do you have going?"
"There's a note on the desk of one of the victims. It's the hotel and room number of our prime witness. We have to assume our shooter has that information. The slaughter inside there indicates he's taking out the people associated with the trial. The people he thinks did him wrong. That's a long list but I think our witness would be at the top of it."
"Got it. You want to set up at the hotel."
Bosch nodded.
"Yeah. One man outside, one inside and me in the room. We wait and see if he shows."
Wright shook his head.
"We use four. Two inside and two outside. But forget waiting in the room, because Jessup will never get by the surveillance. Instead, you and I find a viewpoint up high and set up the command post. That's the right way to do it."
Bosch nodded.
"Okay, let's go."
"Except there's one thing."
"What's that?"
"If I bring you in on this, then you stay back. My people take him down."
Bosch studied him for a moment, trying to read everything hidden in what he was saying.
"There are questions," Bosch said. "About Franklin Canyon and the other places. I need to talk to Jessup."
Wright looked over Bosch's shoulder and back toward the front door of Royce and Associates.
"Detective, one of my best people is dead on the floor in there. I'm not guaranteeing you anything. You understand?"
Bosch paused and then nodded.
"I understand."
Forty-one
Thursday, April 8, 1:50 P.M.
There was more media in the courtroom than there had been at any other point of the trial. The first two rows of the gallery were shoulder-to-shoulder with reporters and cameramen. The rest of the rows were filled with courthouse personnel and lawyers who had heard what had happened to Clive Royce.
Sarah Gleason sat in a row by the courtroom deputy's desk. It was marked as reserved for law enforcement officers but the deputy put her there so the reporters couldn't get to her. Meantime, I sat at the prosecution table waiting for the judge like a man on a desert island. No Maggie. No Bosch. Nobody at the defense table. I was alone.
"Mickey," someone whispered from behind me.
I turned to see Kate Salters from the Times leaning across the railing.
"I can't talk now. I have to figure out what to say here."
"But do you think your total destruction of this morning's witness is what could have--?"
I was saved by the judge. Breitman entered the courtroom and bounded up to the bench and took her seat. Salters took hers and the question I wanted to avoid for the rest of my life remained unasked--at least for the moment.
"We are back on the record in California versus Jessup. Michael Haller is present for the People. But the jury is not present, nor is defense counsel or the defendant. I am aware through unconfirmed media reports of what has transpired in the last ninety minutes at Mr. Royce's office. Can you add anything to what I have seen and heard on television, Mr. Haller?"
I stood up to address the court.
"Your Honor, I don't know what they are putting out to the media at the moment, but I can confirm that Mr. Royce and his cocounsel on this case, Ms. Graydon, were shot and killed in their offices at lunchtime. Karen Revelle is also dead, as well as a police officer who responded to the shooting. The suspect in the shooting has been identified as Jason Jessup. He remains at large."
Judging by the murmur from the gallery behind me, those basic facts had probably been speculated upon but not yet confirmed to the media.
"This is, indeed, very sad news," Breitman said.
"Yes, Your Honor," I said. "Very sad."
"But I think at this moment we need to put aside our emotions and act carefully here. The issue is, how do we proceed with this case? I am pretty sure I know the answer to that question but am willing to listen to counsel before ruling. Do you wish to be heard, Mr. Haller?"
"Yes, I do, Judge. I ask the court to recess the trial for the remainder of the day and sequester the jury while we await further information. I also ask that you revoke Mr. Jessup's pretrial release and issue a capias for his arrest."
The judge considered these requests for a long moment before responding.
"I will grant the motion revoking the defendant's release and issue the capias. But I don't see the need to sequester the jury. Regrettably, I see no alternative to a mistrial here, Mr. Haller."
I knew that would be her first thought. I had been considering my response since the moment I had returned to the courthouse.
"The People object to a mistrial, Judge. The law is clear that Mr. Jessup waives his right to be present at these proceedings by voluntarily absenting himself from them. According to what the defense represented earlier, he was scheduled to be the last witness today. But he has obviously decided not to testify. So, taking all of this into--"
"Mr. Haller, I am going to have to stop you right there. I think you are missing one part of the equation and I am afraid the horse is already out of the barn. You may recall that Deputy Solantz was assigned lunch duty with our jurors after we had the issue of tardiness on Monday."
"Yes."
"Well, lunch for eighteen in downtown Los Angeles is a tall order. Deputy Solantz arranged for the group to travel by bus together and eat each day at Clifton's Cafeteria. There are TVs in the restaurant but Deputy Solantz always keeps them off the local channels. Unfortunately, one TV was on CNN today when the network chose to go live with what was occurring at Mr. Royce's office. Several jurors saw the live report and got the gist of what was happening before Deputy Solantz managed to kill the feed. As you can imagine, Deputy Solantz is not very happy with himself at the moment, and neither am I."
I turned and looked over at the courtroom deputy's desk. Solantz had his eyes down in humiliation. I looked back at the judge and I knew I was dead in the water.
"Needless to say, your suggestion of sequestering the jury was a good one, just a little late. Therefore, and after taking all things into consideration, I find that the jury in this trial has been prejudiced by events which have occurred outside of the court. I intend to declare a mistrial and continue this case until such time as Mr. Jessup has be
en brought again before this court."
She paused for a moment to see if I had an objection but I had nothing. I knew what she was doing was right and inevitable.
"Let's bring in the jury now," she said.
Soon the jurors were filing into the box, many of them glancing over at the empty defense table.
When everyone was in place, the judge went on the record and turned her chair directly to the jurors. In a subdued tone she addressed them.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I must inform you that because of factors that are not fully clear to you but will soon become so, I have declared a mistrial in the case of California versus Jason Jessup. I do this with great regret because all of us here have invested a great deal of time and effort in these proceedings."
She paused and studied the confused faces in front of her.
"No one likes to invest so much time without seeing the case through to a result. I am sorry for this. But I do thank you for your duty. You were all dependable and for the most part on time every day. I also watched you closely during the testimony and you were all attentive. The court cannot thank you enough. You are dismissed now from this courtroom and discharged from jury duty. You may all go home."
The jurors slowly filed back into the jury room, many taking a last look back at the courtroom. Once they were gone the judge turned back to me.
"Mr. Haller, for what it's worth, I thought you acquitted yourself quite well as a prosecutor. I am sorry it ended this way but you are welcome back to this court anytime and on either side of the aisle."
"Thank you, Judge. I appreciate that. I had a lot of help."
"Then I commend your whole team as well."
With that, the judge stood and left the bench. I sat there for a long time, listening to the gallery clear out behind me and thinking about what Breitman had said at the end. I wondered how and why such a good job in court had resulted in such a horrible thing happening in Clive Royce's office.
"Mr. Haller?"
I turned, expecting it to be a reporter. But it was two uniformed police officers.
"Detective Bosch sent us. We are here to take you and Ms. Gleason into protective custody."