Russell Foley stifled a yawn. He was tired. His eyes, red and puffy from considerable lack of sleep, felt like someone had thrown a handful of sand in his face. He rubbed at the irritation, knowing it would only make it worse.
In front of him, on the opposite side of his desk, sat Assistant Commissioner, Peter Story. Story thumbed through the latest murder file, pausing over the glossy, eight-by-four, photographs taken by a forensic photographer at Kevin Thiele’s home several hours earlier.
Foley shifted noisily in his chair, and his superior lifted his eyes from the file and peered at him over the top of his glasses. The two men locked eyes briefly, and then Story resumed his perusal of the pages he held in his lap. When he had finished, he closed the file and placed it on the desk. He
