For a homicide cop, murder often started the day. For the mixed-race female sloppily wrapped in a tarp and stuffed in a construction site dumpster, it had surely ended hers.
Lieutenant Eve Dallas ducked under the crime scene tape and strode across the demolition rubble. She’d already been on her way downtown to Cop Central when the call came through, detouring her to one of the construction sites in Hudson Yards.
The day had a soft feel to it, a breezy warmth as May of 2061 made way for June and the heat that would surely follow. Construction types stood around in their hard hats and steel-toed boots, gulping coffee, shooting the shit, and goggling at the dumpster where a couple of
uniforms stood by.
Civilians, Eve knew, couldn’t resist goggling at the dead. She could hear the hard, staccato, machine-gun echo of an airjack at another site. The whole sector, she knew, was full of them. The dumpster sat on the north side of the seventy-story spear of a building, on the edge where a trio of lesser towers huddled. The trio, showcased the dinge and wear of the years, the shrugged shoulders of neglect…
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