One
Commotion rumbled on the periphery of Grace Buteo’s hearing. At first, she mistook this as the standard awakening of the precinct. It was now past starting time and officers were arriving in droves, reporting to their captains for their assignments and tasks.
And should their captains need something, they reported to their lieutenants. Should their lieutenants need something, only then would Grace, or her co-commander, Adams, be called upon.
But this wasn’t a slow-building din flexing around her. A woman’s high voice cut through the hive’s low buzz.
“I have to speak to her!” she cried. “It has to be her. I’m telling you!”
Heron Jane pivoted in his seat, looking over his shoulder toward the door.
Grace lowered the opacity on her lenscape until her surrounding office came into view
