Desert Star (Renée Ballard, #5; Harry Bosch, #24; Harry Bosch Universe, #37)

by Michael Connelly

He actually enjoyed being the cranky old ex-cop in the neighborhood whom people were afraid to approach.

To him the violence wasn’t the departure from the norm. It was the norm.

This was hallowed ground to Bosch. The library of lost souls. Too many for him and Ballard and the others to ever solve. Too many to ever soothe

the pain.

Bosch paused for a moment and stood still. There was only silence in the library of lost souls.

It was a Dewey decimal system of the dead.

“The arc of the moral universe bends toward justice, Sheila,” he said.

“It’s so easy to forget that there’s great beauty in the desert,” she said.

Bosch nodded. “And these flowers, they’re amazing,” Ballard said. “Desert star,” Bosch said. “I know a guy, says they’re a sign of god in this fucked-up world. That they’re relentless and resilient against the heat and the cold, against everything that wants to stop them.” Ballard nodded. “Like you,” Bosch added.