The atmosphere in the detective bureau remained unchanged.
The bitterness of the cheap coffee, the musty smell of the old file folders and the sweat left behind by those who had pulled all-nighters all mingled with a hint of doughnut icing drifting in from somewhere. These scents were tangled together in a chaotic mess, like a clump of daytime residue that never quite dissipated.
Cole was slumped at his desk when he looked up and saw the figure at the door. He froze for a moment, then rubbed his eyes hard, suspecting that he hadn’t slept enough the previous night and his mind was playing tricks on him.
He reached out and tapped the burly white man sitting next to him, who was slumped in his chair, messing around.
“Kane, I’m not seeing things, am I?” He stared at the doorway, his voice
