There was graffiti on the concrete floor of the courtyard, a gang insignia Bosch couldn't make out. One of them was Henry Hill, whose family owned the old bowling alley downtown, the Lucky Strike Lanes. We’d spend Sunday morning and early afternoon together, then I’d head back to school and work. The detectives worked quietly because of the tensions among them.
It had been nearly a year since they met, but Bosch still held to her sometimes with the fear that she might abruptly turn and leave, declare her attraction to him a mistake. 'Oh yes, I'm sorry, I lost the train there. A few dozen cattle grazed the pasture. I didn't even mention that in the story.
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