"That’s the problem," Hector said, his hand tightening on the grip of his pistol. "The past doesn't like being cleaned. It wants to be remembered."
His latest case wasn't about a missing person or a cheating spouse. It was about a shadow.
"Everyone exists, Elisa," Hector muttered, reaching for his worn copy of The Long Goodbye . "They just leave different kinds of footprints."
As he stepped out into the cool evening air, the first drops of rain began to fall. His leg throbbed, but for the first time in weeks, the air felt clean.