Chapter 1: Blood in the Ironworks

Somebody turned up dead at Riverbend Steelworks. Not just anybody—a dancer from one of the clubs on Main, the kind of place that folks in Riverbend only ever whispered about, if they mentioned it at all.

The news hit like a thunderclap—right in the middle of a town where the biggest thing on most people’s minds was whether the Steelers would finally make the playoffs. Riverbend was the sort of place where murder just didn’t happen—certainly not anything this ugly. Stardust, that club on the edge of town, was the kind of joint you drove past with your windows rolled up tight, eyes fixed straight ahead, pretending not to notice the neon or the music leaking out. Now, though, everyone in town was buzzing, every diner booth and bar stool humming with the story.

I thought this case would be my big break—the thing that put my name on the board. Instead, it tore my life apart.

Funny how it goes. I was just twenty-five back then, three years into detective work, and I’d finally made team lead. The pay was still crap, but suddenly the stakes felt sky-high. I couldn’t hide how much I loved it—couldn’t stop grinning inside, like I’d finally been let into the real game with the grown-ups. It was all I wanted: crack a big case, make a name, finally matter. Man, I was hungry for it. Hungry—and yeah—a little naïve.

And then, just like that—bam—a big case landed in my lap.

Tyler Chen, our rookie, came barreling into the squad room, face flushed, gasping for air. “Steelworks... steelworks...” He was doubled over, hands on his knees, sweat pouring down his face.

When I heard him say “steelworks,” my first reaction was straight-up irritation. There was only one factory in Riverbend, and just about everyone in town had a tie to it. Folks always figured it was a sure thing—a job for life, pension at the end, the American dream. But layoffs and pink slips? Nobody saw that coming. Lately, workers were getting restless, stirring up trouble every week. We’d turned into glorified security for the plant’s management. If we slipped up for even a day, someone could get hurt. The tension in town was thick enough to cut with a knife. I shot Tyler a look and said, “Grab riot gear, load up on pepper spray, and watch yourselves.” Then, rolling my eyes, I added, “Come on, it’s the same old routine—why are you losing it? They’re not gonna eat you.”

Tyler just shook his head, gulping for breath. “No, Cap, someone died at the steelworks! A woman—she... she...” He pointed at himself, totally flustered, voice cracking. “Her clothes were all gone. All... all...”

At first, the words just kind of bounced off me. But the moment I caught ‘someone died,’ my heart kicked into overdrive. Shit. Someone was dead. Training kicked in. My body moved before my brain did—I was up and out the door without even thinking.

By the time we pulled up in the squad car, there was already a crowd—workers, nosy neighbors, even a bunch of kids craning their necks over the chain-link fence. The patrol guys assigned to the steelworks looked like they’d seen a ghost. When they spotted us, I could see the relief wash over them. They hustled over. “Captain Callahan, you’re finally here. It’s awful.”

I asked, “Has the scene been secured?” One glance at the officer’s sheepish face told me everything I needed to know. This was the steelworks—always people around. Once something happened, a crowd was inevitable. No way to keep it clean.

I scanned the area. The body was on the grass between Warehouses 5 and 6, a white sheet tossed over it, already stained at the edges. I snapped on my gloves, jaw tight, and walked over. Felt every pair of eyes burning a hole in my back.

The officer trailed after me, his voice low. “When I got here, the scene was already trampled. Four workers, just off night shift, cut through here on their way to the dorms. They caught the murderer in the act. There was a scuffle. Security showed up, and so did onlookers—everyone crowded in for a look...”

I lifted the sheet and nearly flinched, letting it fall right back down. Look, don’t let the badge fool you—I was twenty-five, and I’d never seen a woman completely naked in real life. My heart hammered. I took a deep breath, forced myself to steady up, and lifted the sheet again. She was beautiful—lipstick smeared, clear signs of assault. The closer I looked, the worse it got—not just violated, but beaten all over, not a single spot left untouched.

My hands were shaking, but I motioned for the body to be taken to the lab. I tried to keep my voice level. "Let’s get her to forensics."

“Who found her? Who caught the suspect? Where are they?”

“Our guys took them to security, waiting for you to question them.”

He kept sighing, shaking his head. “Who’d have thought, Brian Bishop—a college-educated, decent-looking guy—could do something like this?”

I cut him off. “We don’t know that yet. Don’t go making accusations.” Even as I said it, I could feel the whole town’s eyes pressing in, waiting for us to deliver a villain.

Back at the station, I met the four witnesses first. They were all talking over each other, voices raw with anger and nerves:

“It was freezing, so we took the shortcut. Never thought we’d see him bent over, taking off clothes. At first, I thought he was hassling someone, so I rushed over and kicked him away. Didn’t realize she was already dead.”

“He looks like a gentleman, but who knew he was rotten inside.”

“Officer, you can’t let him go. He’s not even human.”

“He got what he wanted, then killed her. Sick bastard.”

Their words tumbled out, all mixed with sweat and the stench of fear after a graveyard shift. I could practically feel the tension rolling off them.

One of the patrol guys handed me a scrap of paper: “Found this near the scene.”

I looked—it read: “Brian Bishop, Building 7, 2nd floor, Apt 203.”

“The guy they caught is Brian Bishop.”