The Overlook by Michael Connelly Page A

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 back in Halifax. Heavy-duty with the big cuffs so they don’t get burned.”
    Bosch nodded. He had been fishing for one thing but got something else. Protective gloves. He wondered if they were gloves specifically designed for handling radioactive material. He realized that he had forgotten to ask Alicia Kent if the men who entered her house had worn gloves. He hoped that Rachel Walling had covered all the details again when she was left with her.
    Bosch paused there. Sometimes the silences are the most uneasy moments for a witness. They start to fill in the blanks.
    But Mitford said nothing. After a long moment Bosch continued.
    “Okay, we had two cars up there besides the Porsche. Describe the car that backed up to the Porsche.”
    “I can’t, really. I know what Porsches look like, but I couldn’t tell about the other cars. Both were a lot bigger, like with four doors.”
    “Let’s talk about the one in front of the Porsche. Was it a sedan?”
    “I don’t know the brand.”
    “No, a sedan is a type of car, not a brand. Four doors, trunk—like a police car.”
    “Yes, like that.”
    Bosch thought about Alicia Kent’s description of her missing car.
    “Do you know what a Chrysler Three Hundred looks like?”
    “No.”
    “What color was the car you saw?”
    “I don’t know for sure but it was dark. Black or dark blue.”
    “What about the other car? The one that was behind the Porsche.”
    “Same thing. A dark sedan. It was different from the one in front—maybe a little bit smaller, eh—but I don’t know what kind it was. Sorry.”
    The boy frowned, as though it was a personal failing that he didn’t know the makes and models of cars.
    “It’s all right, Jesse, you’re doing fine,” Bosch said. “You’ve been very helpful. Do you think if I showed you photos of various sedans you could pick out the cars?”
    “No, I didn’t see them enough. The lighting on the street wasn’t good and I was too far away.”
    Bosch nodded but was disappointed. He considered things for a moment. Mitford’s story matched up with information provided by Alicia Kent. The two intruders to the Kent house had to have had transportation to get there. One would have taken the original vehicle, while the other took Alicia Kent’s Chrysler to transport the cesium with. It seemed like the obvious thing.
    His thoughts prompted a new question for Mitford.
    “Which way did the second car go when he drove off?”
    “He also made a U-turn and drove down the hill.”
    “And that was it?”
    “That was it.”
    “What did you do then?”
    “Me? Nothing. I just stayed where I was.”
    “Why?”
    “I was scared. I was pretty sure I had just seen some guy get murdered.”
    “You didn’t go check on him to see if he was alive and needed help?”
    Mitford looked away from Bosch and shook his head.
    “No, I was afraid. I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay, Jesse. You don’t have to worry about that. He was already dead. He was dead before he hit the ground. But what I’m curious about is why you stayed in hiding for so long. Why didn’t you go down the hill? Why didn’t you call nine-one-one?”
    Mitford raised his hands and dropped them on the table.
    “I don’t know. I was afraid, I guess. I followed the map up the hill, so that was the only way I knew back. I would have had to walk right by there and I thought, what if the cops come while I’m walking right there? I could get blamed. And I thought, if it