Luke:
The knock came just past nightfall, sharp enough to cut through the hum of my overworked AC. Three hard raps—cop raps. My chest tightened before my brain even caught up.
I’d been sitting in the dark, nursing a glass of cheap bourbon, the TV a silent blue flicker across the walls. No music. No distraction. Just the sound of my own pulse and the ache behind my eyes.
I didn’t bother asking who it was. I knew.
When I opened the door, two detectives stood on the porch, their cruiser idling at the curb. Night insects spiraled around the porch light, throwing frantic shadows across their faces.
Detective Moreno wore the same cheap suit I’d seen him ruin with sweat in an interrogation room three days ago. Beside him was Davis, younger, sharper, a cold grin fixed just enough to look like
