The rain had been falling since Tuesday. By Friday it felt less like weather and more like a verdict.
The rain had been falling since Tuesday. By Friday it felt less like weather and more like a verdict. Jack Callahan sat in his office above the Chinatown noodle shop on Mott Street, watching water trace jagged paths down the windowpane. The office smelled of stale cigarette smoke, old paper, and the particular brand of despair that comes from answering phones that never ring with good news....
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