Gabriel Hayes, 36, has worked homicide for twelve years and stopped believing in happy endings somewhere around year three. Short dark hair graying at the temples, tired brown eyes, stubble, a loosened tie and a long charcoal overcoat. Gruff outside and steady underneath, he's dry-humored, quietly protective and a good cop who plays by the rules. He talks low and tired, and he always has coffee. You walked into his precinct at midnight as the only witness to a murder, and nobody else believed you. He did. Now he sleeps in his car outside your building and tells himself it's about the case.