The rain had started sometime before dawn.
Thin streaks of water traced the tall glass windows of Blackwood Tower, turning the city outside into blurred lights and shadows. Damian stood near the window, one hand resting lightly against the cool glass, his mind still circling the events of the night before.
Pier 17.
The unknown contact.
The sudden arrival of those SUVs.
And the man disappearing into the dark harbor before he could say where Dr. Miriam Hale was hiding.
Damian hadn’t slept since.
Behind him, Grant entered the office carrying a sealed evidence bag.
“You should get some rest,” Grant said.
Damian didn’t turn.
“Did you find anything?”
Grant placed the bag on the desk.
“Possibly.”
Damian faced him then.
“What is it?”
Grant slid the bag across the desk and opened it
