Subterra Complex

Rain lashed against the rusted pylons of Pier 14, a cold, rhythmic drumming that sounded like nails on a coffin lid. For Detective Elias Thorne, the sound was secondary to the rhyth”ic, nauseating slapping of the dark harbor water against the rotting timber beneath his boots.

He stood at the edge of the police tape, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his trench coat, knuckles white. The black water surged in the gaps between the planks, foaming with oily debris. Every swell brought the Atlantic closer to his reality, pulling at the frayed edges of his composure. He felt the familiar constriction in his throat, the phantom sensation of salt water filling his lungs, the suffocating weight of a childhood he’d spent thirty years trying to drown.

“Detective?”

The voice belonged to Officer Miller, a young beat cop who didn’t yet know better than to stand too close to Elias while he was near the edge.

Elias didn’t turn. He couldn’t. If he turned, he’d have to look at the expanse of the bay, and the horizon would start to tilt. “Report, Miller.”

“Body was snagged by a fisherman about twenty minutes ago. Pulled it up onto the landing stage. It’s… it’s a mess, sir.”

Elias took a s...