He glared my way, and I couldn't help feeling like I was back in high school once again, I'd forgotten the beer. Not what your average citizens usually carried around concealed on their person. The whole room lay empty except for five guys standing in the middle with assault weapons slung over their shoulders-AK-12s and SIG MPXs by the looks of them. As I stepped quietly inside, I knew without a doubt something was amiss. Access into the station's inner workings wasn't usually so free and easy. I paused at the unlocked door leading into the bullpen-an open-concept area with clusters of desks for everybody ranked lower than lieutenant. But as far as I knew, everybody on duty was partying in back, throwing Douglass a well-deserved soirée after his recent ordeal and return to the land of the visible. I questioned everything as a matter of course. Besides, I happened to be suspicious by nature. As a detective, it was easy to get distracted by particulars while you were after the big picture. I'd trained myself over the years to file them away but not focus on them too much. Little glitches out of the ordinary seldom did. The vacant front desk didn't sway me from my course, though. In a city that never slept, one expected its law enforcement personnel to share the same god-awful insomnia-graveyard shift or no. No cops, uniformed or otherwise, to be seen. The pencil-necked clerk wasn't at his post, and an eerie quiet held the foyer as still as a morgue. I should have paid more attention to the warning signs right off things weren't exactly business as usual at the precinct.

Maybe checking in on Sergeant Douglass late that night hadn't been the best idea. For Sara, my cheerleader and constant reader,

Chimera Effect by Milo James Fowler