Mackey looked at the photo of the Yukon. He thought of June Bug, a junkie who wanted to be a man, who died because he trusted a badge. He thought of all the other Junes Bugs—the bodies stacked in the corner of the board, the ones marked Closed because no one cared.

Rojas leaned in. She was good—too good for this place. She still believed in the puzzle. "What do you have?"

"The Commissioner," Mackey said without looking up, "couldn't find his own dick with both hands and a search warrant."