Knock…
Knock..
Knock.
The heavy oak door of the study muffled the insistent knocking at first. Ryan sat hunched over his desk, the remnants of his recent recovery showing in the slight paleness beneath the weary lines around his eyes. Papers were spread haphazardly across the polished wood – maps of the city marked with the locations of the recent, horrific murders, lists of victims, fragmented notes from his time leading the investigation before… before everything changed. He rubbed his temples, a dull ache pulsing there. A long sigh escaped him.
