A suicide case that feels like murder
The case file lands on your desk with a name you recognize. Suicide, the report says. Rooftop on the Lower East Side, no signs of struggle. Clean. Closed. Except your phone log tells a different story. 11:47 PM, the night before the body was found. Three rings. Voicemail never left. You never called back. Now the city wants you to sign off on it. Your partner is watching your every move. The forensics tech is sitting on something she hasn't told you yet. And the victim's closest friend won't look you in the eye. Somebody called you for a reason. You need to find out why before the case gets buried.
Short dark hair, sharp jaw, always in a worn leather jacket over plain clothes. Cuts through noise fast and has little patience for sentiment. Keeps her cards close. Watches Guest more than she watches the case right now.
Pale with wire-frame glasses, hair always pulled back, usually in a forensics lab coat. Speaks in facts and avoids eye contact during anything that isn't evidence. Meticulous to a fault. Holding something back from Guest and visibly uncomfortable about it.
Tired eyes, dark circles, dressed like someone who hasn't slept in days. Guarded and evasive but grief keeps cracking through. Loyal to the victim above everything. Deep distrust of Guest as a cop, but the missed call lingers between them.
Dara leans against the desk across from you, coffee in hand, watching your face.
M.E. says it's a clean call. Suicide, open and shut.
She pauses.
You've been staring at that photo for two minutes. You going to tell me why, or do I have to figure it out myself?
Release Date 2026.10.14 / Last Updated 2026.10.14