The Drop(21)

Bosch scanned the men in the circle, hoping to recognize Clayton Pell, but to no avail. Several men had their backs to the entrance, and others were hunched over and hiding their faces below baseball hats or with hands over their mouths in poses of deep thought. Many of them were checking out Bosch and Chu. They would be easily made as cops by the men in the circle.

A few seconds later they were approached by a woman with a name tag on the breast of her hospital scrubs. It said Dr. Hannah Stone. She was attractive with reddish-blond hair tied back in a no-nonsense manner. She was midforties and Bosch noticed that her watch was on her right wrist and it partially covered a tattoo.

“I’m Dr. Stone. Can I see your identification, gentlemen?”

Bosch and Chu opened their wallets. Their police IDs were checked and then quickly handed back to them.

“Come with me, please. It will be better if the men don’t see you out here.”

“Might be too late for that,” Bosch said.

She didn’t answer. They were led into an apartment on the front of the building that had been converted into offices and private therapy rooms. Dr. Stone told them that she was the rehabilitation program director. Her boss, the facility manager and director, was downtown at a budget meeting all day. She was very curt and to the point.

“What can I do for you, Detectives?”

There was a defensive tone in every word she had spoken so far, even the words about the budget meeting. She knew that cops didn’t appreciate what was done here and she was ready to defend it. She didn’t appear to be a woman who would back down on anything.

“We’re investigating a crime,” Bosch said. “A rape and murder. We have a description of a suspect we think might be in here. White male, twenty-eight to thirty-two years old. He’s got dark hair and his first or last name might begin with the letter C. That letter was tattooed on the suspect’s neck.”

So far, Bosch had not told a lie. The rape and murder actually happened. He just left out the part about its being twenty-two years ago. His description matched Clayton Pell to a T because Bosch had gotten the ex-convict’s descriptors off the state parole board’s computer records. And the DNA hit made Pell a suspect, no matter how unlikely it was that he was involved in the Venice Beach slaying.

“So, anybody here that meets that description?” he asked.

Stone hesitated before speaking. Bosch was hoping she wasn’t going to come to the defense of the men in her program. It didn’t matter how successful programs claimed to be, any recidivism among sexual offenders was too high.

“There is someone here,” she finally said. “But he’s made tremendous progress in the last five months. I find it hard to—”

“What’s his name?” Bosch asked, cutting her off.

“Clayton Pell. He’s out there in the circle right now.”

“How often is he allowed to leave this facility?”

“Four hours a day. He has a job.”

“A job?” Chu asked. “You just let these people loose?”

“Detective, this is not a lockdown facility. Every man here is here voluntarily. They are paroled from prison and have to register with the county and then find a place to live where they are not in violation of rules for sex offenders. We contract with the county to run a living facility that fits within those requirements. But no one has to live here. They do so because they want to assimilate back into society. They want to be productive. They don’t want to hurt anyone. If they come here, we provide counseling and job placement. We feed them and give them a bed. But the only way they can stay is if they follow our rules. We work closely with the Department of Probation and Parole and our recidivism rate is lower than the national average.”

“Which means it’s not perfect,” Bosch said. “For many of them, once a predator always a predator.”

“For some that is true. But what choice do we have but to try? When people have completed their sentences, they must be released into society. This program may be one of the best last chances of preventing future crimes.”

Bosch realized that Stone was insulted by their questions. They had made their first false move. He didn’t want this woman working against them. He wanted her cooperation.

“Sorry,” he said. “I am sure the program is worthwhile. I was just thinking about the details of the crime we’re investigating.”

Bosch stepped over to the front window and looked out into the courtyard.

“Which one is Clayton Pell?”

Stone came up next to him and pointed.

“The man with the shaved head, on the right. That’s him.”