The Bleeding Truth

The screech of a forklift's brakes ripped through the thick exhaust fumes filling the Vanzetti shipping hub.

Armed men operated with brutal efficiency. At the center, Arturo braced his hands against a makeshift command table. Spread out beneath his knuckles were blueprints and blurry traffic camera snapshots. Every clue tied to Massimo's shooting lay exposed.

"Play it back," Arturo commanded.