In Plain Sight: The screams. Then, the silence.

Chicago. 2:37 A.M.
The air reeked of blood, gunpowder, and the kind of silence that only comes after too much screaming.
Detective Sophia Blake lay flat on the concrete, her heartbeat pounding in her ears louder than the sirens. Her left shoulder burned like hellfire, the bullet having torn through muscle and pride. Rain slicked the alley walls, washing streaks of crimson into the gutter.
Across the street, two cops lay still. Good men. Dead. A third was screaming into a radio, his voice crac...