Luke:
The river has always been my quiet place, but today it churns like a living thing—dark water breaking itself against jagged rocks, currents twisting and doubling back on themselves.
I sit on the tailgate of my truck, elbows on my knees, watching the surface seethe. Midday sun glints like shards of glass. The city is only a mile away, yet it feels like another planet. Out here the wind cuts cleaner, the sound of traffic fades to a dull hum, and I can almost convince myself none of it—Internal Affairs, the dead men in the alley, Alex vanishing like smoke—ever happened.
Almost.
The phone in my pocket buzzes. I ignore it for a beat, staring at the white caps curling across the river. When it buzzes again, I drag it out.
Unknown number.
My chest tightens.
“Yeah,” I answer, voice r
