Free Lost Light by Michael Connelly

I was doing. Not that I didn’t trust him. I did. But as a rule I operated under the belief that the fewer people who know your business the better.
    “Not right now, Jed. I’m late for an appointment and have to get going. But I’ll tell you what-you want to catch lunch one of these days? I’ll tell you all about my exciting life as a pensioner.”
    I sort of laughed as I said the last line and I think it worked. He agreed to lunch but said he’d have to call me back about it. I knew from experience it was difficult to schedule a lunch ahead of time when you were working homicide. What would happen was that he would call on the morning he had a lunch free. That was the way it worked. We said we’d stay in touch and ended the call. It was nice to know that he apparently wasn’t carrying the same anger as Kiz Rider over my abrupt departure from our partnership and the department.
    I called the bureau back and was put through to Nunez.
    “You get a chance to make that call?”
    “Yeah, but she wasn’t there. I talked to your old partner.”
    “Rider?”
    “No, his name was Edgar.”
    “Oh, yeah. Jerry. How is he doing?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I’m sure you did when he just called you.”
    “Excuse me?”
    He had nailed me.
    “You can skip the bullshit, Bosch. Edgar told me he felt obligated to call you and let you know someone was checking you out. I said that was fine with me. I asked him for your number so that way I would know I was dealing with the real Harry Bosch. He gave it to me and when I tried to call a couple minutes ago it was busy. I figure you were talking to Edgar, so I don’t appreciate your little dumb-guy dance.”
    My embarrassment over being cornered turned to anger. Maybe it was the vodka in my stomach or the hammering reminder that I was an outsider now, but I was tired of dealing with this guy.
    “Man, you are a great investigator,” I said into the phone. “A brilliant deductive mind. Tell me, do you ever use it on cases or do you reserve it only for busting the chops of people who are just trying to get something done in the world?”
    “I have to be careful about who I give information to. You understand that.”
    “Yeah, I understand that. I also understand why law enforcement works about as well as the freeways in this town.”
    “Hey, Bosch, don’t go away mad. Just go away.”
    I shook my head in frustration. I didn’t know if I had blown it or if I was never going to get anything from him in the first place.
    “So that’s your little dance, huh? You call me on my act but you were acting the whole time, too. You never were going to give me the name, were you?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “It’s just a name, Nunez. No harm no foul.”
    Still nothing from the agent.
    “Well, I’ll tell you what. You’ve got my name and number. And I think you know what agent I am talking about. So go to her and let her decide. Give her my name and number. I don’t care what you think about me, Nunez. You owe it to your fellow agent to give it to her. Just like Edgar. He was obligated. So are you.”
    That was it. That was my pitch. I waited in the silence, this time deciding not to speak again until Nunez did.
    “Look, Bosch, I would tell her you were calling for her. I would have told her before I even talked to Edgar. But obligations only go so far. The agent you were asking about? She’s not around anymore.”
    “What do you mean not around? Where is she?”
    Nunez said nothing. I sat up straight, my elbow hitting the wheel, drawing a blast from the horn. Something was in my memory, something about a female agent in the news. I couldn’t quite get to it.
    “Nunez, is she dead?”
    “Bosch, I don’t like this. This talking on the phone with somebody I’ve never met. Why don’t you come in and maybe we can talk about this.”
    “Maybe?”
    “Don’t worry, we’ll talk. When can you come in?”
    The dashboard clock said it was five after three. I looked at the