"Mr. Blackwood," he started, "sorry for barging into your office—"
"You better be," I cut him off. "And it better be for a damn good reason."
The man straightened, trying to recover. "I'm Detective Harrington Smith," he said.
I tilted my head, unimpressed. Surveying the man at the front of the pack, I was able to tell that he was middle-aged, balding, and reeked of bureaucratic arrogance. He tried to look confident, but his shifting eyes gave him away.
"And?"
Slowly, I removed my hand from the button and clasped it with the other, resting them on my desk.
"I know you don’t often get visits like this—"
"Because I’m a very busy man," I interrupted again, my patience thinning. "And I hate being interrupted by people who can’t justify their presence. So, tell me why you’re h
