EIGHT
The morning traffic had built up to its usual madness. People were either rushing to get to work by cab or via their own vehicles. Despite most of the populous using the subway or having the luck of living just blocks away from work, traffic was manic. The sun had risen but had not yet brought its warmth. Commuters huddled in coats that they knew they wouldn’t need until later, but they helped with the chill of the morning.
McCall had made a quick stop to drop off dry cleaning; next was the coffee house to pick up a coffee and bear claw before she headed to the station. She was a block away when she got a text from Detective Tony Marinelli, informing her of a fresh body at one of the tower blocks on Water Street. Parking on Water Street was a nightmare; its narrowness enhanced by b
