The sun hadn’t cleared the skyline when Captain Reaves arrived at Central Precinct.

The glass façade threw back the dawn in sharp, metallic reflections, making the building look colder than it was. Inside, the corridors buzzed with the half-awake hum of night-shift officers logging out and morning teams taking over.

Reaves moved through it all like a ghost — no greetings, no coffee, no wasted motion.

He carried a single file folder under his arm, plain manila, no markings except a ...