Section 12

It had come into being moments before, floated over fences along hedges, down streets and parkways; until here it lays dormant, as leaves whither and crumble around it. It swoops from the alley; a response to a call, a tremble in the fabric of time, darting from...

Section 11

“Damn, I hate desk jockeys,” Roger poked the end call, on his iphone XXX, “especially, when they are poor relations, riding on someone else’s coattails.” But, if he was going to be keeping the apartment, he was going to have to work, no matter how distasteful. With a...

Section 10

Brown and Winters waited for forensics to come and take samples, then headed up the street to the Donut King. They had just begun to eat their breakfast when the call came through. “What have you got?” Mosely was wasting no time, must have someone in his office...

Section 9

Several blocks away Roger was feeling that screwed feeling also Who the hell is Juan de Pereda? not so much screwed as an itch in the back of his mind, as if his brain was prodding, but the answer tip of my tongue kept flitting into his subconscious and what about the...

Section 8

Digger and Winters stooped on the sidewalk. There was not much left to go on: the coat, or the tattered remains, your typical Goodwill rack model, shirt soot all that was left, belt buckle and some leather left, torso a burnt out husk, legs singed but mostly unharmed,...

Section 7

As Roger walked out of the foyer of the Gaylord Apartments, he immediately noticed two police officers huddled around the yellow tape across the alley. Looking past, he saw two more, appearing to stoop over an oil stain. Next to the yellow tape several officers were...