“They could have if they had seen him. But Arlene’s a workaholic. She was busy all the time. She missed some appointments and the ultrasounds. When they discovered there was a problem it was too late.”

“Do you blame your wife for that?”

Helton looked aghast.

“No, of course not. Look, what does this have to do with what happened today? I mean, why are you asking me all of this?”

Bosch leaned across the table.

“It may have a lot to do with it, Stephen. I am trying to determine what happened today and why. The why is the tough part.”

“It was an accident! I forgot he was in the car, okay? I will go to my grave knowing that my mistake killed my own son. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Bosch leaned back and said nothing. He hoped Helton would say more.

“Do you have a son, Detective? Any children?”

“A daughter.”

“Yeah, well, then happy Father’s Day. I’m really glad for you. I hope you never have to go through what I’m going through right now. Believe me, it’s not fun!”

Bosch had forgotten it was Father’s Day. The realization knocked him off his rhythm and his thoughts went to his daughter living eight thousand miles away. In her ten years he had only been with her on one Father’s Day. What did that say about him? Here he was trying to get inside another father’s actions and motivations and he knew his own could not stand equal scrutiny.

The moment ended when there was a knock on the door and Ferras came in carrying a file.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I thought you might want to see this.”

He handed the file to Bosch and left the room. Bosch turned the file on the table in front of them and opened it so that Helton would not be able to see its contents. Inside was a computer printout and a handwritten note on a Post-it.

The note said: “No ad on Craigslist.”

The printout was of a story that ran in the L.A.