In the depths of the Nevada desert, FBI agent Rachel Walling and former LAPD Detective Harry Bosch must confront The Poet, a terrifying serial killer who leads them down a dark and twisted path. FBI agent Rachel Walling finally gets the call she's dreaded for years, the one that tells her the Poet has surfaced. She has never forgotten the serial killer who wove lines of poetry in his hideous crimes -- and apparently he has not forgotten her. Former LAPD detective Harry Bosch gets a call, too -- from the widow of an old friend. Her husband's death seems natural, but his ties to the hunt for the Poet make Bosch dig deep. Arriving at a derelict spot in the California desert where the feds are unearthing bodies, Bosch joins forces with Rachel. Now the two are at odds with the FBI . . . and squarely in the path of the Poet, who will lead them on a wicked ride out of the heat, through the narrows of evil, and into a darkness all his own . . . Michael Connelly is the author of forty previous novels, among them New York Times bestsellers Nightshade, The Waiting, and  Resurrection Walk. His books, which include the Harry Bosch series, the Lincoln Lawyer series, and the Renée Ballard series, have sold more than eighty-nine million copies worldwide. Connelly is a former newspaper reporter who has won numerous awards for his journalism and his novels. He is the executive producer of four television series: Bosch, Bosch: Legacy ,  The Lincoln Lawyer, and the upcoming Ballard. He spends his time in California and Florida. The Narrows By Michael Connelly Warner Books Copyright © 2006 Michael Connelly All right reserved. ISBN: 9780446699549 Chapter One SHE WAS IN DARKNESS, floating on a black sea, a starless sky above. She could hear nothing and see nothing. It was a perfect black moment but then Rachel Walling opened her eyes from the dream. She stared up at the ceiling. She listened to the wind outside and heard the branches of the azaleas scratching against the window. She wondered if it was the scratching on glass or some other noise from within the house that had awakened her. Then her cell phone rang. She wasn't startled. She calmly reached to the bed table. She brought the phone to her ear and was fully alert when she answered, her voice showing no indication of sleep. "Agent Walling," she said. "Rachel? It's Cherie Dei." Rachel knew right away that this would not be a Rez call. Cherie Dei meant Quantico. It had been four years since the last time. Rachel had been waiting. "Where are you, Rachel?" "I'm at home. Where do you think I'd be?" "I know you cover a lot of territory now. I thought maybe you -" "I'm in Rapid City, Cherie. What is it?" She answered after a long moment of silence. "He's resurfaced. He's back." Rachel felt an invisible fist punch into her chest and then hold there. Her mind conjured memories and images. Bad ones. She closed her eyes. Cherie Dei didn't have to use a name. Rachel knew it was Backus. The Poet had resurfaced. Just as they knew he would. Like a virulent infection that moves through the body, hidden from the outside for years, then breaking the skin as a reminder of its ugliness. "Tell me." "Three days ago we got something in Quantico. A package in the mail. It contained -" "Three days? You sat on it for three -" "We didn't sit on anything. We took our time with it. It was addressed to you. At Behavioral Sciences. The mail room brought it down to us and we had it X-rayed and then we opened it. Carefully." "What was in it?" "A GPS reader." A global positioning system reader. Longitude and latitude coordinates. Rachel had encountered one on a case the previous year. An abduction out in the Badlands where the missing camper had marked her trail with a handheld GPS. They found it in her pack and traced her steps back to a camp where she had encountered a man and he had followed her. They got there too late to save her but they would have never gotten there at all if it hadn't been for the GPS. "What was on it?" Rachel sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She brought her free hand to her stomach and closed it like a dead flower. She waited and soon Cherie Dei continued. Rachel remembered her as once being so green, just an observer and learner on the go team, assigned to her under the bureau's mentoring program. Ten years later and the cases, all the cases, had etched deep grooves into her voice. Cherie Dei wasn't green anymore and she needed no mentor. "It had one waypoint in its record. The Mojave. Just inside the California border at Nevada. We flew out yesterday and we went to the marker. We've been using thermal imaging and gas probes. Late yesterday we found the first body, Rachel." "Who is it?" "We don't know yet. It's old. It had been there a long time. We're just starting with it. The excavation work is slow." "You said the first body. How many more are there?" "As of whe