The woman walked into my office at midnight wearing a black dress and carrying...
I was sitting behind my desk, a glass of rye in my hand and a case file I wasn't reading open in front of me. The file belonged to a missing person--a bookkeeper named Harold Voss who'd vanished from his apartment in East Harlem three days earlier. Voss had a wife, two kids, and a habit of disappearing for weekends that he never explained. I'd been tracking him for three days and had learned...
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