By Michael Connelly
Harry Bosch is assigned a murder name in South L.A. that takes him to Fortune Liquors, the place the chinese language proprietor has been shot to demise in the back of the counter in an obvious robbery.
Joined through participants of the department's Asian Crime Unit, Bosch relentlessly investigates the killing and shortly identifies a suspect, a l. a. member of a Hong Kong triad. yet prior to Harry can shut in, he will get the note that his younger daughter Maddie, who lives in Hong Kong along with her mom, is missing.
Bosch drops every little thing to trip around the Pacific to discover his daughter. may possibly her disappearance and the case be hooked up? With the stakes of the research so excessive and so own, Bosch is up opposed to the clock in a brand new urban, the place not anything is at it sort of feels.
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Extra resources for 9 Dragons (Harry Bosch, Book 15)
A bare chest with that woven stripe of hair right below the navel. “Just what the doctor ordered,” he says, making his way in. I let out a dorky giggle and begin making waves with the raft. Sean pushes his feet off the wall of the pool. The blades of his shoulders slice through the skin of the water as he swims across. “This feels incredible,” he says. He takes a gulp of water and squirts it out between his teeth like a fan. It hits my cheek, and I laugh, a bit too hard, making a weird hiccup noise.
She’s doing good. ” “I guess so. I don’t know. I only talked to her for five minutes. ” “Yeah, she must be pretty busy. I thought we’d be talking more, you know … since she has free nights and weekends on her cell plan. ” A weird gurgling sound escapes my throat when I say California. Quite attractive. Sean shrugs and looks away. So not interested. I imagine what Kelly would do, how she would handle the situation. “It’s so hot out here,” I say. ” I grab the front of my shirt and jerk it back and forth from my chest as a fan.
I paddle around on the raft for almost an hour, allowing my arms and the back of my neck to crisp and redden from the sun. Staring down at my reflection wavering back and forth in the water, I can make out my frizzy hair (wet or not), my pudgy upper lip, and through it all I can see the maze of dirt at the bottom of the pool from my filthy bare feet. I’ll have to vacuum before my mother gets home and sees. I rest my head on the raft, and my bangs block the sun from my eyes. I feel stupid and embarrassed.