Angle of Investigation Read Online Free PDF Page B

man did the talking. His name was Ticotin.
    “The kid was already in full arrest when we got there,” he began. “We did what we could but the best thing was just to ice him and transport him—try to get him in here and see what the pros could do.”
    “Did you take a body temperature reading at the scene?” Bosch asked.
    “First thing,” Ticotin said. “It was one-oh-six-eight. So you gotta figure the kid was up around one-oh-eight, one-oh-nine before we got there. There was no way he was going to come back from that. Not a little baby like that.”
    Ticotin shook his head as though he was frustrated by having been sent to rescue someone who could not be rescued. Bosch nodded as he took out his notebook and wrote down the temperature reading.
    “You know what time that was?” he asked.
    “We arrived at twelve seventeen so I would say we took the BT no more than three minutes later. First thing you do. That’s the protocol.”
    Bosch nodded again and wrote the time—12:20 P.M. —next to the temperature reading. He looked up and tracked a car coming quickly into the ER lot. It parked and his partner, Ignacio Ferras, got out. He had gone directly to the accident scene, while Bosch had gone directly to the hospital. Bosch siht=al. Bosgnaled him over. Ferras walked with anxious speed. Bosch knew he had something to report but Bosch didn’t want him to say it in front of the paramedics. He introduced him and then quickly got back to his questions for the paramedics.
    “Where was the father when you got there?”
    “They had the kid on the floor by the back door, where he had brought him in. The father was sort of collapsed on the floor next to him, screaming and crying like they do. Kicking the floor.”
    “Did he ever say anything?”
    “Not right then.”
    “Then when?”
    “When we made the decision to transport and work on the kid in the truck, he wanted to go. We told him he couldn’t. We told him to get somebody from the office to drive him.”
    “What were his words?”
    “He just said, ‘I want to go with him. I want to be with my son.’ Stuff like that.”
    Ferras shook his head as if in pain.
    “At any time did he talk about what had happened?” Bosch asked.
    Ticotin checked his partner, who shook his head.
    “No,” Ticotin said. “He didn’t.”
    “Then how were you informed of what had happened?”
    “Well, initially, we heard it from dispatch. Then one of the office workers, a lady, she told us when we got there. She led us to the back and told us along the way.”
    Bosch thought he had all he was going to get but then thought of something else.
    “You didn’t happen to take an exterior air temperature reading for that spot, did you?”
    The two paramedics looked at each other and then at Bosch.
    “Didn’t think to,” Ticotin said. “But it’s gotta be at least ninety-five with the Santa Anas kicking up like this. I don’t remember a June this hot.”
    Bosch remembered a June he had spent in a jungle but wasn’t going to get into it. He thanked the paramedics and let them get back to duty. He put his notebook away and looked at his partner.
    “Okay, tell me about the scene,” he said.
    “We’ve got to charge this guy, Harry,” Ferras said urgently.
    “Why? What did you find?”

    “It’s not what I found. It’s because it was just a kid, Harry. What kind of father would let this happen? How could he forget?”
    Ferras had become a father for the first time six months earlier. Bosch knew this. The experience had made him a professional dad and every Monday he came into the squad with a new batch of photos. To Bosch, the kid looked the same week to week, but not to Ferras. He was in love with being a father, with having a son.
    “Ignacio, you’ve got to separate your own feelings about it from the facts and the evidence, okay? You know this. Calm down.”
    “I know, I know. It’s just that, how could he forget, you know?”
    “Yeah, I know, and we’re going to