The next morning, as dawn broke over Los Angeles, a hint of the night’s chill still lingered in the air outside the police station. The streets were bathed in the pale light of the morning sun and a faint golden glow was reflected off the windows. When Victor pushed open the door and stepped inside, he looked as if he hadn’t been working on a case the previous night, but had gone on holiday to the beach instead: his stride was light and his shoulders were relaxed.
The bitter aroma of coffee was already wafting through the duty station.
Kane had arrived early and was sitting in the outer office area, flipping through files with one hand while holding a paper cup of coffee in the other. When he saw Victor walk in, he raised the rim of his cup in a nod, his eyes still carrying the lingering
