Free The Overlook by Michael Connelly Page B

again. It reminded Bosch of seeing Rachel rub Alicia Kent’s wrists earlier.
    “Feel better?” he asked.
    “Yeah, good,” Mitford replied.
    “Okay, then let’s start from the top. Tell me where you came from, where you were going and exactly what you saw up on the overlook.”
    Mitford nodded and then took Bosch through a twenty-minute story that began on Hollywood Boulevard with the purchase of the star map from a curbside vendor and his long trek on foot up into the hills. His journey took nearly three hours and probably accounted most for the odor emanating from his body. He told Bosch that by the time he got up to Mulholland Drive it was getting dark and he was tired. The house where the map said Madonna lived was dark inside. No one appeared to be home. Disappointed, he decided to rest from his long journey and to wait and see if the pop singer he wanted to meet would arrive home later. He found a spot behind some bushes where he could lean back against the exterior of the wall that surrounded the home of his quarry—he didn’t use that word—and wait. Mitford said he fell asleep there until something woke him up.
    “What woke you up?” Bosch asked.
    “Voices. I heard voices.”
    “What was said?”
    “I don’t know. It was just what woke me up.”
    “How far were you from the overlook?”
    “I don’t know. Like fifty meters, I think. I was pretty far away.”
    “What was said after you were awake and could hear?”
    “Nothing. They stopped.”
    “All right, then what did you see when you woke up?”
    “I saw three cars parked by the clearing. One was a Porsche and the other two were bigger. I don’t know the kind but they were sort of the same.”
    “Did you see the men on the overlook?”
    “No, I didn’t see anybody. It was too dark out there. But then I heard a voice again and it was coming from over there. In the dark. It was like a yell. Right at the moment I looked, there were two quick flashes and shots. Like muffled shots. I could see somebody in the clearing on his knees. You know, in the flash of light. But it was so quick that was all I saw.”
    Bosch nodded.
    “This is good, Jesse. You’re doing good. Let’s just go over this part again so we have it right. You were asleep and then voices woke you up and you looked out and saw the three cars. Do I have that right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay, good. Then you heard a voice again and you looked toward the overlook. Just then the shots were fired. Is all of that right?”
    “Right.”
    Bosch nodded. But he knew that Mitford might be simply telling Bosch what he wanted to hear. He had to test the kid to make sure that wasn’t happening.
    “Now, you said that in the flash from the gun you saw the victim drop to his knees, is that right?”
    “No, not exactly.”
    “Then tell me exactly what you saw.”
    “I think he was on his knees already. It was so fast I wouldn’t have seen him drop to his knees like you said. I think he was already kneeling.”
    Bosch nodded. Mitford had passed the first test.
    “Okay, good point. Now let’s talk about what you heard. You said you heard somebody yell right before the shots, right?”
    “Right.”
    “Okay, what did that person yell?”
    The young man thought for a moment and then shook his head.
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Okay, that’s all right. We don’t want to say anything we’re not sure about. Let’s try an exercise and see if that helps. Close your eyes.”
    “What?”
    “Just close your eyes,” Bosch said. “Think about what you saw. Try to bring up the visual memory and the audio will follow. You are looking at the three cars and then a voice pulls your attention toward the overlook. What did the voice say?”
    Bosch spoke calmly and soothingly. Mitford followed his instructions and closed his eyes. Bosch waited.
    “I’m not sure,” the young man finally said. “I can’t get it all. I think he was saying something about Allah and then he shot the guy.”
    Bosch held