I hung up on Blaire Sutton.The living room was pitch black, save for a single cigarette burning on the coffee table, its ember glowing faintly in the dark, then dimming again.A moment later, my phone lit up once more, Blaire's name flashing frantically across the screen.I picked it up and switched it off entirely.Pulling an old spare phone from the drawer, I swapped in a SIM card known only to my department's staff.Five minutes later, a frantic pounding shook the front door, followed by a series of violent kicks."Asher Whitlock! Get your ass out here!"Blaire's furious shrieking echoed through the door, mixed with another woman's desperate wailing in a chaotic din.I stubbed out the cigarette, stood up, walked to the entryway, and pulled the door open.Four or five people stood out in the hallway.Blaire was utterly drenched, her expensive silk trench coat plastered to her body, leaving her looking a mess. Beside her stood Malcolm Pierce's mother, Margaret Holloway, bei
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