The Overlook by Michael Connelly

Arabic?”
    “I really couldn’t tell. I was too far away and I only heard the one word.”
    Bosch thought about this for a few moments. He remembered what he had read about the cockpit recordings from the 9/11 attacks. The terrorists called out
Allah Akbar
-“God is greatest”-at the last moment. Did one of Stanley Kent ’s killers do the same?
    Again, he knew he had to be careful and thorough. Much of the investigation could hinge on the one word Mitford thought he had heard from the overlook.
    “Jesse, what did Detective Ferras tell you about this case before he put you in this room?”
    The witness shrugged.
    “He didn’t tell me anything, really.”
    “He didn’t tell you what we think we’re looking at here or what direction the case may be going?”
    “No, none of that.”
    Bosch looked at him for a few moments.
    “Okay, Jesse,” he finally said. “What happened next?”
    “After the shots somebody ran from the clearing to the cars. There was a streetlight out there and I saw him. He got into one of the cars and he backed it up close to the Porsche. Then he popped the trunk and got out. The Porsche’s trunk was already open.”
    “Where was the other man while he did this?”
    Mitford looked confused.
    “I guess he was dead.”
    “No, I mean the second bad guy. There were two bad guys and one victim, Jesse. Three cars, remember?”
    Bosch held up three fingers as a visual aid.
    “I only saw one bad guy,” Mitford said. “The shooter. Somebody else stayed in the car that was behind the Porsche. But he never got out.”
    “He just stayed in that other car the whole time?”
    “That’s right. In fact, right after the shooting, that car made a U-turn and drove away.”
    “And the driver never got out the whole time he was at the overlook.”
    “Not while I was looking.”
    Bosch thought about this for a moment. What Mitford had described indicated a real division of labor between the two suspects. This mirrored the description of events that Alicia Kent had given earlier; one man questioning her and then translating and giving orders to the second. Bosch assumed it was the English speaker who had remained in the car at the overlook.
    “Okay,” he finally said, “go back to the story, Jesse. You said that right after the shooting one guy drives away while the other backs up closer to the Porsche and pops the trunk. Then what happened?”
    “He got out and took something from the Porsche and put it in the other car’s trunk. It was really heavy and he had a hard time with it. It looked like it had handles on the sides because of the way he was holding it.”
    Bosch knew that he was describing the pig used to transport radioactive materials.
    “Then what?”
    “He just got back in the car and drove off. He left the trunk open on the Porsche.”
    “And you saw nobody else?”
    “Nobody else. I swear.”
    “Describe the man you did see.”
    “I can’t really describe him. He was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up. I never really saw his face or anything. I think that under the hood he was wearing a ski mask, too.”
    “Why do you think that?”
    Mitford shrugged again.
    “I don’t know. It just seemed that way to me. I might be wrong.”
    “Was he big? Was he small?”
    “I think he was average. Maybe a little short.”
    “What did he look like?”
    Bosch had to try again. It was important. But Mitford shook his head.
    “I couldn’t see him,” he insisted. “I’m pretty sure he had a mask.”
    Bosch didn’t give up.
    “White, black, Middle Eastern?”
    “I couldn’t tell. He had the hood and the mask and I was so far away.”
    “Think about the hands, Jesse. You said there were handles on the thing he transferred from one car to the other. Could you see his hands? What color were his hands?”
    Mitford thought for a moment and his eyes brightened.
    “No, he wore gloves. I remember the gloves because they were those real big kind like the guys wear who work on the trains