"Your return here is not guaranteed. You are on probation
for a year. So consider yourself a rookie again. A boot - the
oldest living boot at that. I approved your return - I can also
wash you out without so much as a reason anytime in the course
of the year. Don't give me a reason."
Bosch didn't answer. He didn't think he was supposed to. "On
Friday we graduate a new class of cadets at the academy. I
would like you to be there."
"I want you to be there. I want you to see the dedication in
our young people's faces. I want to reacquaint you with the
traditions of this department. I think it could help you, help
you rededicate yourself."
"If you want me to be there I will be there."
"Good. I will see you there. You will sit under the VIP tent
as my guest."
He made a note about the invite on a pad of paper next to
the blotter. He then put the pen down and raised his hand to
point a finger at Bosch. His eyes took on a fierceness.
"Listen to me, Bosch. Don't ever break the law to enforce
the law. At all times you do your job constitutionally and
compassionately. I will accept it no other way. This city
will accept it no other way. Are we okay on that?"
"We are okay."
"Then we are good to go."
Bosch took his cue and stood up. The chief surprised him by
also standing and extending his hand. Bosch thought he wanted
to shake hands and extended his own. The chief put something in
his hand and Bosch looked down to see the gold detective's
shield. He had his old number back. It had not been given away.
He almost smiled.
"Wear it well," the police chief said. "And proudly."
Now they shook hands, but as they did so the chief didn't
"The chorus of forgotten voices," he said.
"Excuse me, Chief?"
"That's what I think about when I think of the cases down
there in Open-Unsolved. It's a house of horrors. Our greatest
shame. All those cases. All those voices. Every one of them is
like a stone thrown into a lake. The ripples move out through
time and people. Families, friends, neighbors. How can we call
ourselves a city when there are so many ripples, when so many
voices have been forgotten by this department?"
Bosch let go of his hand and didn't say anything. There was
no answer for the chief's question.
"I changed the name of the unit when I came into the
department. Those aren't cold cases, Detective. They never go
cold. Not for some people."
"I understand that."
"Then go down there and clear cases. That's what your art
is. That's why we need you and why you are here. That's why I
am taking a chance with you. Show them we do not forget. Show
them that in Los Angeles cases don't go cold."
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...