Malcolm let his apartment door close and vaulted the stairs two at a time to the streets that waited, every night, to deliver another cold corpse in a body bag. Another cold corpse, and a case that might never be solved if he didn’t find a break within the first forty-eight. He carried too many of those cases inside him. Too many dead ends, too many losses. Not that a win could bring the dead back to life. Malcolm didn’t have that power, and he’d given up on saving lives long ago. By the time he got to them now, it was already too late.
