By Michael Connelly
Harry Bosch and Terry McCaleb are featured in a gripping tale that may be a homicide secret, a felony mystery, and a mental drama.
Terry McCaleb's enforced quiet way of life at the island of Catalina is a much cry from the disturbing pleasure of his former function as an FBI profiler. even though, while small-time felony Edward Gunn is located useless McCaleb turns into embroiled in a stressful and complicated case... best him to move the trail of Harry Bosch.
This notorious detective has consistently teetered on the point of darkness with the intention to get contained in the head of the killer. Is it attainable that he has stepped throughout that finely drawn line and embraced darkness?
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Additional info for A Darkness More Than Night (Harry Bosch, Book 7)
It’s beautiful, and it scares the hell out of him. A car. One he did not own in this year to which he has travelled back. It looks to be his 1969 Chevelle Super Sport that he bought from an original owner when he was twenty-seven, some five years later than the time in which he’s returned. It’s Fathom Blue Metallic with a black top and stripes; the car itself, much less one with the exact color scheme, is not likely to pop up randomly. It must be his car. When he was wrapped in a white jacket in a padded room, his mother sold the car to a college student who came all the way down from Colorado to purchase it.
Yet, he drank anyway. The after-party was a barrage of toasts and beautiful young actresses bringing him drinks and trying to lure him onto the dance floor. Eventually, one persistent actress succeeded. While they danced, other aspiring women continually worked their way in the area. But, she managed to keep the others squeezed out of the space between her and the tipsy scribe, as if she were clinging onto a casting appointment. Eventually the pulse of the bass and the blur of the lights meshed into a crashing rhythm of burn inside him.
He watches her lift up the garbage can lid on the left side, place her drink underneath, and drop the lid back down. Unknown to her as she walks away, the top of the drink gets caught between the rim of the trashcan and the lid pressing down on it from above. There it rests. The lid pops off the drink, the watery soda and tiny melting pieces of ice fall to the floor and run in a puddle on the left side of the garbage can. His heart rate rises. Surely someone will see the mess. Someone will clean the mess.