![]() The trio, showcased the dinge and wear of the years, the shrugged shoulders of neglect… Continue reading the extract here…įor a Homicide cop, murder often started the day. The dumpster sat on the north side of the seventy-story spear of a building, on the edge where a trio of lesser towers huddled. The whole sector, she knew, was full of them. She could hear the hard, staccato, machine-gun echo of an airjack at another site. Construction types stood around in their hard hats and steel-toed boots, gulping coffee, shooting the shit, and goggling at the dumpster where a couple ofĬivilians, Eve knew, couldn’t resist goggling at the dead. The day had a soft feel to it, a breezy warmth as May of 2061 made way for June and the heat that would surely follow. She’d already been on her way downtown to Cop Central when the call came through, detouring her to one of the construction sites in Hudson Yards. Lieutenant Eve Dallas ducked under the crime scene tape and strode across the demolition rubble. For the mixed-race female sloppily wrapped in a tarp and stuffed in a construction site dumpster, it had surely ended hers. For a homicide cop, murder often started the day. ![]()
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