The Closers by Michael Connelly

Porter Ranch. Its campus was marked by magnificent green lawns and the daunting rise of mountains behind it. The mountains almost seemed to cradle the school and protect it. Bosch thought it looked like a place that any parent would want their child to go. He thought about his own daughter, just a year away from starting school. He would want her to go to a school that looked like this-on the outside, at least.
    He and Rider followed signs that led them to the administration offices. At a front counter Bosch showed his badge and explained that they wanted to see if a student named Roland Mackey had ever attended Hillside. The clerk disappeared into a back office and soon a man emerged. His most notable features were a basketball-sized paunch and thick glasses shaded by bushy eyebrows. Across his forehead his hair left the perfect line of a toupee.
    “I’m Gordon Stoddard, principal here at Hillside. Mrs. Atkins told me you are detectives. I’m having her check that name for you. It didn’t ring a bell with me and I’ve been here almost twenty-five years. Do you know exactly when he attended? It might help her with the search.”
    Bosch was surprised. Stoddard looked like he was in his mid-forties. He must have come to Hillside fresh from his own schooling and never left. Bosch didn’t know if that was a testament to what they paid teachers here or Stoddard’s own dedication to the place. But from what he knew about teachers private and public, he doubted it was the pay.
    “We’d be talking about the eighties, if he went here. That’s a long time ago for you to remember.”
    “Yes, but I have a memory for the students that have come through. Most of them. I haven’t been principal for twenty-five years. I was a teacher first. I taught science and then I was dean of the science department.”
    “Do you remember Rebecca Verloren?” Rider asked.
    Stoddard blanched.
    “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I taught her science. Is that what this is about? Have you arrested this boy, Mackey? I mean, I guess he’d be a man now. Is he the one?”
    “We don’t know that, sir,” Bosch said quickly. “We’re reviewing the case and his name came up and we need to check on it. That’s all.”
    “Did you see the plaque?” Stoddard asked.
    “Excuse me?”
    “Outside on the wall in the main hallway. There is a plaque dedicated to Rebecca. The students in her class collected the funds for it and had it made. It is quite nice but of course it is also quite sad. But it does serve its purpose. People around here remember Rebecca Verloren.”
    “We missed it. We’ll look at it on our way out.”
    “A lot of people still remember her. This school might not pay that well, and most of the faculty might have to work two jobs to make ends meet, but it has a very loyal faculty nonetheless. There are several teachers still here who taught Rebecca. We have one, Mrs. Sable, who was actually a student with her and then returned here to teach. In fact, Bailey was one of her good friends, I believe.”
    Bosch glanced at Rider, who raised her eyebrows. They had a plan for approaching Becky Verloren’s friends but here was an opportunity presenting itself. Bosch had recognized the name Bailey. One of the three friends Becky Verloren had spent the evening with two nights before her disappearance was named Bailey Koster.
    Bosch knew that it was more than an opportunity to question a witness in the case. If they didn’t get to Sable now she would likely hear about Roland Mackey from Stoddard. Bosch didn’t want that. He wanted to control the flow of information on the case to the players involved in it.
    “Is she here today?” Bosch asked. “Could we talk to her?”
    Stoddard looked up at the clock on the wall next to the counter.
    “Well, she is in class now but school lets out for the day in about twenty minutes. If you don’t mind waiting I am sure you could talk to her then.”
    “That’s no problem.”
    “Good, I will send a