Neil Tredray

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She took one of her hands off the wheel and held her sleeve to her nose. It was her first time back in uniform since the protests. She could make out the smell of tear gas. She had dry-cleaned the uniform twice but the odor was baked in, permanent. It was a strong reminder of the year that had been.
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The Dark Hours (Renée Ballard, #4; Harry Bosch, #23; Harry Bosch Universe, #36)
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