Detective Moran looked around the bar for any signs of a struggle, something that could hint at what had happened before Randy Decker met his end. His sharp eyes moved from the overturned bar stools to the shattered glass scattered across the floor. Nothing here seemed out of place for Liquor Down—a bar where fights broke out as easily as the booze flowed. But Moran knew better than to take things at face value. In a place like this, even the smallest detail could hold a clue. Not even the owner of Liquor Down, Gina, was exempt from suspicion. Her connections ran deep, and her involvement in various unsavory activities made her a significant player in the narrative. She was a protagonist in her own right, shaping events from the shadows. Jack Preston was a regular at the Liquor Down and Moran knew him personally. He sat back, folding his arms, studying Jack with a measured gaze. He knew fear when he saw it—real fear, the kind that ate at a person from the inside out. “I don’t care what deal you’re offering, Detective,” Jack whispered, leaning in even closer, “because it won’t matter. I talk, I die.