Chapter 10 - The Ghost of Pier 17
Midnight settled heavily over the New York waterfront. The city lights glittered across the dark surface of the Hudson River, casting long, dancing reflections on the water.
I stood alone on the west terrace of my mansion, holding a glass of bourbon in my hand. The wind was cold, carrying the familiar scent of salt, diesel, and distant sea spray.
Behind me, the sliding glass door clicked open. Soft, quiet footsteps approached—not with the cautious hesitation of a housekeeper hiding a secret, but with the comfortable ease of a trusted friend.
"She’s finally asleep," Hannah said quietly, leaning against the stone railing beside me.
"Good," I replied, taking a slow sip from my glass. "She earned it. She’s the best detective this side of the Hudson."
Hannah smiled, looking out toward the dark silhouette of Pier 17 in the distance. "Are you still thinking about what happened?"
"Every day," I admitted. "For five years, I thought I was cursed by the past. I thought the darkness was all I deserved."
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"And now?" she asked, turning her head to look at me.
I turned toward her, meeting her gaze fully, letting the harbor lights reflect in the dark centers of my eyes—eyes that were wide open, clear, and finally free.
