The rain drummed lightly on the metal awning as Leah stood outside Maya’s cramped but organized apartment in Brooklyn as early as 4am. She shifted the folder in her hand and knocked twice.

Inside, muffled footsteps approached. The door creaked open to reveal Maya in a baggy NYPD sweatshirt, blinking sleep from her eyes.

“Leah?” she asked, surprised. “It’s 4 a.m. on my day off. This better be a lead or a miracle.”

Leah held up the folder. “Might be both.”

Maya raised an eyebrow and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Inside, the place was exactly what Leah expected, a crime scene board above the fireplace, three computers on a narrow...