The flashing blue and red strobe lights of a dozen NYPD cruisers cut violently through the freezing mist. At the center of the muddy asphalt clearing, Dave Cosgrove stood calmly, a cold, mocking smile touching his heavy lips.
Before the vehicles had even come to a complete halt, a stern-faced detective marched up to Cosgrove, slapping a freshly signed search warrant violently against his chest.
"Open the trucks, Cosgrove," the detective barked, his breath clouding in the freezing night air. "Every single one of them. And the warehouse too."
Cosgrove didn't flinch.He simply raised his massive hands in a lazy, mocking gesture of compliance, a condescending smirk playing at his lips. Around him, police officers swarmed the vehicles, throwing the heavy metal cargo doors wide.
The silence that followed was deafening.
