“Let me show you something and then I’ll take you to your mother.”

He let go of Li’s arm and then pulled the matchbook from his pocket. He handed it over. Li looked at it with no surprise.

“What about it? We used to give these away until the economy went bad and we couldn’t afford the extras.”

Bosch took the matchbook back and nodded.

“I got it in your father’s store twelve years ago,” he said. “I guess you were about fourteen years old then. We almost had a riot in this city. Happened right here. This intersection.”

“I remember. They looted the store and beat up my father. He should have never reopened here. My mother and me, we told him to open the store up in the Valley but he wouldn’t listen to us. He wasn’t going to let anybody drive him out and now look what happened.”

He gestured helplessly toward the front of the store.

“Yeah, well, I was here that night, too,” Bosch said. “Twelve years ago. A riot started but it ended pretty quick. Right here. One casualty.”

“A cop. I know. They pulled him right out of his car.”

“I was in that car with him but they didn’t get to me. And when I got to this spot I was safe. I needed a smoke and I went into your father’s store. He was there behind the counter but the looters had taken every last pack of cigarettes in the place.”

Bosch held up the book of matches.

“I found plenty of matches but no cigarettes. And then your father reached into his pocket and pulled out his own. He had one last smoke left and he gave it to me.”

Bosch nodded. That was the story. That was it.

“I didn’t know your father, Robert. But I’m going to find the person who killed him. That’s a promise I’ll keep.”

Robert Li nodded and looked down at the ground.

“Okay,” Bosch said. “Let’s go see your mother now.”