The air conditioning in the conference room was set a little too high.
No sooner had Victor sat down than he felt the cold air tightening the muscles at the back of his neck. The people on both sides of the long table had not quite settled into their seats yet. The distinctive cacophony of a police station morning briefing filled the room: the scraping of chair legs against the floor, the soft clink of coffee cups hitting the table, and the rustling of papers. Captain Grant was absent, as usual — like a paycheque that’s always missing but never fails to arrive on time. The head seat remained empty, and eventually Old Hunter took it.
He cleared his throat and gave the table a symbolic tap.
‘Guys, let’s start with some good news.’
The moment those words left his mouth, the room’s lingeri
