Page 33 of Resurrection Walk

“This is different, Harry. You’re not a homicide investigator. We’re not solving the crime. We’re proving Lucinda didn’t do it. There’s a difference.”

“I said I got it.”

Bosch went back to the file and started reading again. A few minutes later, he stopped. “Her story hasn’t changed,” he said. “I’m reading the transcript from the police interview. Her story back then was exactly what it was today. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Yes, but not enough. It’s an indicator of truthfulness, like the eye contact, but we need more. A lot more. By the way, why did you ask her back there about when Roberto got the tattoo?”

“I think it’s important to know. You get a tattoo and it’s sort of a life statement.”

“Says the man with a rat tat on his arm.”

“That’s another story. But to get a tattoo that most people won’t see, that says something. I just thought it would be good to know, but it came after they split.”

“Got it.”

Bosch continued reading the file. We were halfway back to Los Angeles. I started thinking about next steps with the case and whether to take it federal or state. There were arguments for and against both. Federal judges weren’t beholden to the electorate and would not hesitate to set a convicted murderer free if the evidence of innocence was there. But with lighter caseloads, federal jurists were generally more scrupulous in their consideration of motions and evidence.

My phone rang over the car’s Bluetooth connection. It was Lucinda Sanz calling collect from the prison. I accepted the call and told her that Bosch and I were still driving back to the city and we were both listening.

“I called my mother and she put Eric on so I could talk to him,” she said. “He said he would talk to you.”

“When?” I asked.

“Whenever you want,” she said. “He’s at the house now.”

I looked over at Bosch and he nodded. It had been his idea to talk to the boy.

“And your mother would be all right with it?” I asked.

“She said yes,” Lucinda said.

“All right, give me her number and I’ll call and tell her we’re heading there now.”

“Today? Are you sure?”

“Might as well, Cindi. We’ve got the time today. I don’t know about tomorrow.”

She gave the number and I saw Bosch write it down. I hit the mute button on the dashboard screen. “You got anything you want to ask while we have her?” I asked.

He hesitated but then nodded. I took the mute off.

“Cindi?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Harry has something he wants to ask,” I said. “Go ahead, Harry.”

Bosch leaned toward the center of the dashboard as if he thought he could be heard more clearly that way.

“Cindi,” he said. “Do you remember being told by the detectives that your arms and hands tested positive for gunshot residue?”

“They said that but it was a lie,” Lucinda said. “I didn’t shoot the gun.”

“I know, and that’s what you told them. My question is about the test. In the interview with the detectives, they said a man tested you but you told them it was a woman. Do you remember that?”

“The deputy just came up to me and said she had to test me for a gun. And she wiped my hands and my arms and the front of my jacket.”

“So it was definitely a female?”

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