Bosch didn’t move for several seconds. He thought he might have cracked his ribs on the right side. His breathing was difficult and painful. He groaned loudly and slowly pulled himself up on the tree trunk so that he could continue to follow the voices.

He soon came back down into the street where Dr. Guyot was waiting with his dog and another man. The two men looked shocked when they saw the blood on Bosch’s shirt.

“Oh my, what happened?” Guyot cried out.

“Nothing. I fell.”

“Your shirt is… there’s blood!”

“Comes with the job.”

“Let me look at your chest.”

The doctor moved in to look but Bosch held his hands up.

“I’m okay. Who is this?”

The other man answered.

“I’m Victor Ulrich. I live there.”

He pointed to the house next to the lot. Bosch nodded.

“I just came out to see what was going on.”

“Well, nothing is going on at the moment. But there is a crime scene up there. Or there will be. We probably won’t be back to work it until tomorrow morning. But I need both you men to keep clear of it and not to tell anybody about this. All right?”

Both of the neighbors nodded.

“And Doctor, don’t let your dog off the leash for a few days. I need to go back down to my car to make a phone call. Mr. Ulrich, I am sure we will want to talk to you tomorrow. Will you be around?”

“Sure. Anytime. I work at home.”

“Doing what?”

“Writing.”

“Okay. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bosch headed back down the street with Guyot and the dog.

“You really need me to take a look at your injury,” Guyot insisted.

“It’ll be fine.”

Bosch glanced to his left and thought he saw a curtain quickly close behind a window of the house they were passing.