Chapter 17 Midnight Indictment

• "If you throw a punch inside a precinct, Casian, even your lawyers won't be able to keep it off the front page of the Post," Megan said, her voice sharp and steady as the heavy glass doors of the NYPD First Precinct slid open before them.
• The air inside the station was thick with the suffocating smell of stale coffee, damp wool, industrial floor cleaner, and the bitter, sharp tang of cheap processing ink. Rain dripped from Casian’s black wool overcoat onto the scuffed linoleum floor as he strode through the squad room, his towering frame cutting a path through the midnight shift of detectives and officers.
• "I don't need to throw punches, Megan," Casian growled, his gravelly baritone carrying a cold, lethal frequency that made two patrolling officers instinctively step aside. "I have the District Attorney waiting in a private conference room, and I have five forensic accounts that prove Thomas Vance paid off Arthur's nurse."