The Harry Bosch Novels, Volume 3: A Darkness More than Night, City of Bones, Lost Light
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For the first time in one volume, the three novels that take Harry Bosch through his most perilous cases yet, and to the edge of the abyss.
A Darkness More than Night
It was a case some cops could live with: the torture and killing of a man who spread horrors of his own. Former FBI profiler Terry McCaleb is called in to decipher the grisly crime scene. Shockingly, the suspect he pinpoints is LAPD detective Harry Bosch. But while Bosch may have had a good reason to commit murder, he has an even better one for staying alive-and for finding a suspect of his own.
City of Bones
A dog finds a bone in the Hollywood Hills and unearths a murder committed more than twenty years earlier. It's a cold case, but Bosch can't let it go. As the investigation takes him deeper into the past, a beautiful rookie cop brings him alive in the present-until a stunningly blown mission and a brutal showdown leave Bosch on the brink of an unimaginable decision.
For years, the unsolved murder of Angella Benton has haunted him. Bosch was taken off the young production assistant's case when her death was linked with the violent theft of two million dollars from a movie set. Both files were never closed. Now retired from the LAPD, Bosch is determined to find justice for Angella. And even in the faces of a powerful and ruthless opponent, he will not back down, with or without a badge.
Together, these three riveting, relentlessly paced novels take us even deeper into the complex hero USA Today has called "one of the most fascinating characters in the mystery world," and show once more that Michael Connelly is "the most talented of crime writers" (The New Yorker).
up. She sat down and went to work. Behind her back Bosch secretly smiled. “Just like old times,” he said. “Don’t remind me. I always get the shit work. And stop smiling.” She hadn’t looked up from her typing. Her fingers were a blur above the keyboard. Bosch watched in awe. “Hey, it’s not like I planned this. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” “Yeah, like Tom Sawyer didn’t know he had to paint a fence.” “What?” “Never mind. Tell me about the boot.” Bosch was stunned. “What?” “Is
with a slightly older man. Bosch reached behind the photos and lifted it out so he could see it better. The couple was sitting at a restaurant or perhaps a wedding reception. Julia wore a beige gown with a low-cut neckline. The man wore a tuxedo. “You know, this man is a god in Japan,” Julia called from the kitchen. Bosch put the framed photo back in its place and walked to the kitchen. Her hair was down and he couldn’t decide which way he liked it best. “Bill Evans?” “Yeah. It seems like
held up his phone. “Go ahead.” As Winston called for a print team, McCaleb dragged the chair into the middle of the living room, positioning it a few feet from the bloodstain. He then sat down on it and took in the room. In this position the owl would have looked down on the killer as well as the victim. Some instinct told McCaleb that this was the configuration the killer had wanted. He looked down at the bloodstain and imagined he was looking down at Edward Gunn struggling for his life and
parking lot toward the security entrance my cell phone rang. It was Keisha Russell. “Hey, Harry Bosch,” she said. “Wanted to let you know, I printed out everything and put it in the mail. But I was wrong about something.” “What was that?” “There was an update on the case. It ran a couple months ago. I was on vacation. You stick around here long enough and they give you four weeks paid vacation. I took it all at once and went to London. While I was gone it was the third anniversary of Martha
the second round of equipment I borrowed from him along with the memory card and the three CDs containing copies of the clock surveillance. Andre had made the copies. I put the card and the CDs on her desk. “This is a surveillance I took. I want you to hold the original—the memory card—in a safe place. I want you to hold an envelope with one of the CDs and a letter from me. I want your private office number. I’m going to call it every night by midnight and tell you I am okay. In the morning you