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Провел пальцами одной руки по шрамам другой.

He thought about the interior scars left from punching all of the brick walls he couldn't see.

He had always known that he would be lost without his job and his badge and his mission. In that moment he came to realize that he could be just as lost with it all. In fact, he could be lost because of it. The very thing he thought he needed the most was the thing that drew the shroud of futility around him. He made a decision.

He reached into his back pocket and took out his badge wallet. He slid the ID card out from behind the plastic window and then unclipped the badge. He ran his thumb along the indentations where it said Detective. It felt like the scars on his knuckles. He put the badge and the ID card in the desk drawer. He then pulled his gun from its holster, looked at it for a long moment and put it in the drawer, too. He closed the drawer and locked it with a key. He stood up and walked through the squad room to Billets's office. The door was unlocked. He put the key to his desk drawer and the key to his slickback down on her blotter. When he didn't show up in the morning he was sure she would get curious and check out his desk. She'd then understand that he wasn't coming back. Not to Hollywood Division and not to RHD. He was turning in his badge, going Code 7. He was done.

Вспомнил о внутренних шрамах, оставшихся от ударов по всем невидимым кирпичным стенам.

Босх всегда знал, что был бы банкротом без своей работы, своего значка, своей миссии. И внезапно осознал, что точно так же может быть банкротом при всем этом. Даже из-за этого. То, что он считал самым необходимым, окутывало его покровом пустоты.

Босх принял решение.

Он полез в задний карман, вынул бумажник со значком и удостоверение из-за пластиковой прокладки. Отстегнул значок, провел большим пальцем по углублениям слова «Детектив». Ощущение было таким же, как от шрамов на костяшках.

Значок с удостоверением Босх оставил на столе. Затем достал пистолет, посмотрел на него и положил туда же. Закрыл ящик и запер его на ключ.

Он встал и направился к кабинету Биллетс. Дверь была не заперта.

Положил ключи от ящика стола и от служебной машины в книгу записей. Босх знал, что утром, когда он не появится, Биллетс заинтересуется почему и проверит его стол. Она поймет, что он не вернется.

Ни в голливудское отделение, ни в ОРУР. Он сдает свой значок, уходит через заднюю дверь. Он больше не служит в полиции.

On the walk back through the squad room Bosch looked about and felt a wave of finality move through him. But he didn't hesitate. At his desk he put one box on top of the other and carried them out through the front hallway. He left the lights on behind him. After he passed the front desk he used his back to push open the heavy front door of the station. He called to the officer sitting behind the counter.

"Hey, do me a favor. Call a cab for me."

"You got it. But with the weather it might be a while. You might want to wait in —"