Chapter 13Falcone turned when he heard the metal clank of the roof door open. He stood with one foot on the edge of the precinct roof and stared out at the city while he smoked. He found peace on short smoke breaks up there. For the five to ten minutes spent puffing away it was easy to imagine everything in the world was at peace. He wasn't delusional, but he allowed himself time for imagining. It was usually the sound of sirens that broke the fantasy. At first, he hated when that happened. Eventually he learned to accept it, the sound of sirens, because it kept him grounded.
“Thought I'd find you up here.” Farrah Richards carried two cups of coffee. Hers sat in that cardboard holder to keep from burning her palms. She stood by the door for a moment, as if she understood and wanted permis
