I knew something was wrong before half way through this book. I am a huge fan of Michael Connelly and his Bosch series. The writing is always tight, the characters well drawn, the plot riveting, and always a satisfying conclusion. I had read The Scarecrow, and liked it, so I thought I owed it to Jack McEvoy, to see how his fame was won. It just isn't happenning for me this go around. The protagonists are about to embark on a steamy love affair, and I could care less. There's been no development of relationship, never mind intimacy, between these two. Their individual inteligence's are now highly suspect, in my opinion. The drama is dragging, some of the revelations unrealistic, the reader's voice is muddy, and I've had it. Somebody please tell me how the story ends, because I don't have it in me to finish this bore. I'm inclined to believe that Michael Connelly didn't write this, but only put his name on it.
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