Kyle

The footsteps behind him died away at the exact moment Kyle stopped.

In the reflection of the rain-wet shop window, he saw only fog and the occasional glimmer of neon signs, but the feeling of someone else's gaze burned the skin on the back of his neck.

Kyle quickened his pace, turned into a narrow alley, and stepped sharply into the shadows under an awning, pressing his back against the cold brick wall. His hand habitually slid to his holster.

A moment later, right above his head, on the third-floor fire escape, a shutter clicked quietly.

— Gritting his teeth, Kyle realized the main thing: he was no longer leading this investigation - now his every move was being closely watched.