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He knew this was a pessimistic view of the world, but fifty years of toiling in the fields of blood had left him without much hope. He knew that the dark engine of murder would never run low on fuel.
Orestes reached down and picked one of the flowers. “Hard to believe something so beautiful can exist in this place,” he said. “And people say there is no God. You ask me, there’s God right there.” He turned the stem between his fingers, and the flower turned like a pinwheel. “You know what that is?” Bosch asked. “Sure,” Orestes said. “This one’s called the desert star.” Bosch nodded. He wasn’t convinced that it was God on earth, but he liked that.
i like these books, because they're subtle
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“Let’s drop these at the pod, but then you and I go somewhere to talk,” Ballard said. “I want your take on a couple things.” “Roger that.” “You gotta stop saying that. Everybody has to stop saying it.” “What’s wrong with it?” “When influencers are saying it on TikTok, it’s jumped the shark.” “I don’t know what one word of that means.”
“Were you an anonymous source for that Times article?” “I was not! I think you really need to go now. I have a Zoom.” Beecher stood up but Ballard and Bosch did not. “Please sit down, Mr. Beecher,” Ballard said. “We have more questions.” “My Zoom is in, like, five minutes,” Beecher complained. “The sooner you sit down, the sooner you will get to your Zoom.”
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