She pulled back her jacket to reveal a small black box clipped to her belt like a pager.

“Radiation monitor,” she explained. “If we had a problem, believe me, this thing would be screaming bloody murder and I’d be running at the front of the pack. But we don’t. Everything is cool here, okay?”

The people at the crime scene hesitantly started to return to their positions. Harry Bosch moved in close to Walling and took her by an elbow.

“Can we talk over here for a minute?”

They moved out of the clearing toward the curb at Mulholland. Bosch felt things shifting but tried not to show it. He was agitated. He didn’t want to lose control of the crime scene, and this sort of information threatened to do just that.

“What are you doing here, Rachel?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Just like you, I got a call in the middle of the night. I was told to roll out.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“I assure you that I am here to help.”

“Then start by telling me exactly what you are doing here and who sent you out. That would help me a lot.”

Walling looked around and then back at Bosch. She pointed out beyond the yellow tape.

“Can we?”

Bosch held out his hand, telling her to lead the way. They went under the tape and out into the street. When he judged that they were out of earshot of everyone else at the crime scene, Bosch stopped and looked at her.

“Okay, this is far enough,” he said. “What is going on here? Who called you out here?”

She locked eyes with him again.

“Listen, what I tell you here has to remain confidential,” she said. “For now.”

“Look, Rachel, I don’t have time for-”

“ Stanley Kent is on a list. When you or one of your colleagues ran his name on the National Crime Index Computer tonight a flag went up in Washington, DC, and a call went out to me at Tactical.”