The Drop by Michael Connelly

from becoming victims. He had treated her like a sympathizer of the predators and he knew that was not the case. It was a city where not enough people cared about making it a better and safer place to live. She did and he had dismissed her. Shame on me, he thought.
    He pulled his phone and called his daughter’s cell.
    “You doing okay?”
    “Yeah. I’m feeling better.”
    “Did Ashlyn’s mom check on you?”
    “Yes, they both came by after school and brought me a cupcake.”
    That morning Bosch had e-mailed her best friend’s mother to ask for the favor.
    “Did they bring you your homework?”
    “Yes, but I’m not feeling that much better. Did you get a case? You never called today, so I’m thinking you did.”
    “Sorry about that. Actually, I got two cases.”
    He noted her skill in changing the subject from homework.
    “Wow.”
    “Yeah, so I’m going to be a little late. I’ve got one more stop and then I’ll be home. You want soup from Jerry’s Deli? I’m going to be up in the Valley.”
    “Chicken noodle.”
    “You got it. Make a sandwich if you get hungry before I get back. And make sure the door’s locked.”
    “I know, Dad.”
    “And you know where the Glock is.”
    “Yes, I know where it is and I know how to use it.”
    “Okay, that’s my girl.”
    He closed the phone.

10
     
    I t took him forty-five minutes in rush-hour traffic to get back to Panorama City. He cruised by the Buena Vista apartments and saw lights on behind the shaded windows he believed belonged to the office he had been in earlier. He also saw a driveway on the side of the building that led to a fenced parking area in the rear. There was a no trespassing sign on the gate and it was topped with barbed wire.
    At the next corner he turned left and soon came to an alley that would take him behind the row of apartment buildings that fronted Woodman. He came to the fenced parking lot behind the Buena Vista and pulled to the side of the alley next to a green trash bin. He surveyed the well-lit lot and noted the eight-foot security fence that surrounded it. It was topped with three strands of barbed wire. There was a walk-through gate for accessing the trash bin but it was padlocked and also topped with barbed wire. It appeared to be a fully secured compound.
    There were only three cars in the lot. One of them was a white four-door with what looked like paint damage on its side. He studied the car and soon realized the damage was actually fresh paint. A bad match of flat white paint had been sprayed on the driver’s side doors to cover the graffiti. He knew it was Dr. Stone’s car and that she was still at work inside. He noted that graffiti had also been white-washed along the back wall of the building. A ladder was leaning against the wall next to a door marked with the same sort of warning signs he had seen up front earlier in the day.
    Bosch turned off his car and got out.
    Twenty minutes later he was leaning on the back of the white car in the lot when the rear door of the apartment building opened and Dr. Stone emerged. She was escorted by a man and they both stopped short when they saw Bosch. The man took a protective step in front of Stone but then she put her hand on his arm.
    “It’s okay, Rico. He’s the detective who was here earlier.”
    She continued walking toward her car. Bosch stood up straight.
    “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to talk to you.”
    This last part slowed her down as she considered it. She then turned to her escort.
    “Thank you, Rico. I’ll be all right with Detective Bosch. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “See you tomorrow.”
    Rico headed back to the door and used a key to open it. Stone waited until he was back in the building before addressing Bosch.
    “Detective, what are you doing? How did you get back here?”
    “I got back here the same way the gangbangers with the paint did. You have a security problem.”
    He pointed through