As the sun began to rise over the Atlantic, Rick stood on the boardwalk, watching the waves crash against the pylons. He was no longer the golden boy of the department. He was just a man with a ruined career and a clear conscience.
The rain in Atlantic City didn't wash away the sins of the boardwalk; it just made them slicker. Rick Santoro adjusted his loud, patterned blazer, the silk sticking to his skin in the humid Jersey air. He was a cop who knew every angle, every bookie, and every back-alley deal from Ventnor to the Inlet. To Rick, the world was a game of craps, and tonight, the stakes were sky-high.
As Rick dug deeper, the evidence pointed toward the one person he trusted: Kevin.