The phone rang at 11:47 PM on a Thursday, and Jack McAllister was already asleep in his office. He answered it on the fourth ring, one eye open, mouth full of the dry taste of stale coffee and regret.
"McAllister." "Mr. McAllister?" The voice was a woman's, low and careful, the kind of voice that had been trained not to say too much. "My name is Rita Malone. I'm at the Blue Lantern on Sunset. I'd like to hire you." He was awake now. "Hire me for what." "To find out who's been disappearing." He sat up. "People disappear in this town every day. You need to call the police." "The police know....
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