I must get to Jerusalem, she said in,a burst of words. lier than she had been on that first hot afternoon when she climbed the ramp leading to the zig-zag gate. He needed a phone and some caffeine. Bosch thought of Cal Moore and what he did and what he left behind.
He would sleep tonight, he knew. And the solitary altar under the oak tree was remembered no more. The plan was to strike at midnight. She tended her famous visitor as if he were her father, bringing him cold drinks and comforts like a slave, yet rebuffing with charniing innocence his attempts to seduce her.
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