Harry Bosch is now a volunteer with the San Fernando Police Department, working full time as a detective (officially part time). He mostly works cold cases, and to do so works in what was once a jail cell, loaded with files.
One morning he is greeted by an Assistant DA and two detectives from LAPD, with news about a case he closed thirty years before. The convicted criminal has spent the intervening time on Death Row, and now his new attorney is saying he has evidence that the original evidence was tampered with by the detectives way back then. In other words, by Bosch.
Of course Bosch is livid. Over the years he has learned little about taking deep breaths and remaining calm. But he knows he never tampered with anything. It just isn't in him. While he is considering his next move, he is called to a brand new crime scene by the SFPD.
A pharmacist and his pharmacist-son lie dead in the pharmacy, murdered by two masked men. Bosch and his team quickly determine that this was no robbery-gone-wrong. These were hits. But why?
Bosch can't rest. I think he got maybe six hours of sleep in the time he spent on these two cases. He was either on the road, in his cell, or at his desk at home, trying to put the pieces together. He is respected by his SFPD colleagues but less so by the reps from the LAPD, from which he had departed under a cloud. So he is given a fair amount of freedom to run with what he needs, and take along who he needs.
In between runs on one case or the other, Bosch manages to have a phone call or two with his daughter, who is in college, and eventually to visit with her. He feels his aloneness perhaps more than he used to, before he knew he had a daughter.
He manages to separate the real truth from the political truth, but not without many setbacks.
I always enjoy the details in Connelly's books, as I like accuracy. I don't have to suspend disbelief. This book seemed a little lighter than some others of his I have read lately, in spite of the development of two separate cases. I read it more quickly than most.
One morning he is greeted by an Assistant DA and two detectives from LAPD, with news about a case he closed thirty years before. The convicted criminal has spent the intervening time on Death Row, and now his new attorney is saying he has evidence that the original evidence was tampered with by the detectives way back then. In other words, by Bosch.
Of course Bosch is livid. Over the years he has learned little about taking deep breaths and remaining calm. But he knows he never tampered with anything. It just isn't in him. While he is considering his next move, he is called to a brand new crime scene by the SFPD.
A pharmacist and his pharmacist-son lie dead in the pharmacy, murdered by two masked men. Bosch and his team quickly determine that this was no robbery-gone-wrong. These were hits. But why?
Bosch can't rest. I think he got maybe six hours of sleep in the time he spent on these two cases. He was either on the road, in his cell, or at his desk at home, trying to put the pieces together. He is respected by his SFPD colleagues but less so by the reps from the LAPD, from which he had departed under a cloud. So he is given a fair amount of freedom to run with what he needs, and take along who he needs.
In between runs on one case or the other, Bosch manages to have a phone call or two with his daughter, who is in college, and eventually to visit with her. He feels his aloneness perhaps more than he used to, before he knew he had a daughter.
He manages to separate the real truth from the political truth, but not without many setbacks.
I always enjoy the details in Connelly's books, as I like accuracy. I don't have to suspend disbelief. This book seemed a little lighter than some others of his I have read lately, in spite of the development of two separate cases. I read it more quickly than most.
Another great Harry Bosch tale sure to please Michael Connelly fans.
