A Darkness More Than Night by Michael Connelly Page A

noticed people start to push their way out of the media room. Behind them he could see on the television screens that the judge had left the bench. Court was out of session.
    “I better go down the hall and see if I can catch Harry. Good to see you again, Jack.”
    McCaleb offered his hand and McEvoy shook it. He then followed the other reporters down to the courtroom doors.
    The main doors to Department N were opened by the two deputies and out flowed the crowd of lucky citizens who had gotten seats during the session, which had most likely been mind-numbingly boring. Those who had not made it inside pushed up close for a glimpse of a celebrity but they were disappointed. The celebrities wouldn’t start showing until the next day. Opening statements were like the opening credits of a film. That’s where they would want to be seen.
    At the tail end of the crowd came the lawyers and staff. Storey had been returned to lockup but his attorney strode right to the semicircle of reporters and began giving his view of what had transpired inside. A tall man with jet black hair, a deep tan and ever-shifting green eyes took a position directly behind the lawyer to cover his back. He was striking and McCaleb thought he recognized him but he couldn’t think from where. He looked like one of the actors Storey normally put in his films.
    The prosecutors came out and soon had their own knot of reporters to deal with. Their answers were shorter than the defense lawyer’s. They often declined to comment when asked questions about the evidence they would present.
    McCaleb watched for Bosch and finally saw him slip out last. Bosch skirted the crowd by staying close to the wall and headed toward the elevators. One reporter moved in on him but he held up his hand and waved her away. She stopped and moved back like a loose molecule to the pack standing around J. Reason Fowkkes.
    McCaleb followed Bosch down the hall and caught him when he stopped to wait for an elevator.
    “Hey, Harry Bosch.”
    Bosch turned, already putting on his no-comment face, when he saw it was McCaleb.
    “Hey . . . McCaleb.”
    He smiled. The men shook hands.
    “Looks like the world’s worst eight-by-ten case,” McCaleb said.
    “You’re telling me. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re writing a book on this thing.”
    “What?”
    “All these ex-bureau guys writing books nowadays.”
    “Nah, that’s not me. Actually, though, I was hoping I could maybe buy you lunch. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
    Bosch looked at his watch and was deciding something.
    “Edward Gunn.”
    Bosch looked up at him.
    “Jaye Winston?”
    McCaleb nodded.
    “She asked me to take a look.”
    The elevator came and they stepped onto it with a crowd of people who had been in the courtroom. They all seemed to be looking at Bosch while trying not to show it. McCaleb decided not to continue until they were off.
    On the first floor they headed toward the exit.
    “I told her I’d profile it. A quick one. To do it I need to get a handle on Gunn. I thought maybe you could tell me about that old case and about what kind of guy he was.”
    “He was a scumbag. Look, I have about forty-five minutes max. I need to get on the road. I’m running down wits today, making sure everybody’s ready to go after openers.”
    “I’ll take the forty-five if you can spare it. Any place to eat around here?”
    “Forget the cafeteria here — it’s awful. There’s a Cupid’s up on Victory.”
    “You cops always eat at the best.”
    “It’s why we do what we do.”

 
     
    10
    They ate their hot dogs at an outdoor table without an umbrella. Though it was a mildly warm winter day, McCaleb found himself sweating. On any given day the Valley could be counted on to be fifteen to twenty degrees warmer than Catalina and he wasn’t used to the change. His internal heating and cooling systems had never been normal since the transplant and he was prone to quick chills