It was twenty past eleven when Jack arrived at 52 Forsythe Avenue. He turned the engine off. "Let's go," he said to Sam, opening the door.Sam followed him up the old building stairs. The suave cohesion of jazz drifted in through an open window from somewhere above them. There was a string next door, their voices blending into undistinguishable blasphemy.Jack hovered outside Mike Freeway's apartment and pulled his coat collar up. "This guy is going to make a statement," he whispered. “Get it down.”“Yes, sir,” Sam replied, his notebook already out.Jack pressed the bell.Sam heard the rustle of footsteps and the scrape of a chair during the brief silence. The door opened, and Mike Freeway stood with a wet sponge over his swollen right eye.He glared from Jack to Sam, a flush of embarrassment creeping into his eyes. "Ah… it's you.""Aye," Jack snarled, elbowing him aside and into the room. "You're still alive, I notice."Freeway paused before stepping aside. "I said earlier, Lieutenan
Last Updated : 2025-10-10 Read more