MICHAEL

The hospital corridor is colder by night.

I lean against the wall outside Dominic’s recovery room, phone against my ear, speaking softly.

"Collins," I say, "I want everything."

“Yes, sir,” he answers immediately. No questions. He knows better than that now.

“I don’t care if the man was a nobody or a ghost,” I go on. “I want his name, his connections, who paid him, who sneezed on him this morning. All of it.”

“I’m right on it,” Collins responds. “I’ll call you back.”

I hang up and scrub a hand down my face.

Through the glass wall of the room, I see that Dominic is motionless, his chest...