Edgar McGraw

Edgar pulls his notepad from his breast pocket, clicking his pen several times as he walks through the yellow police tape. The Texas heat is already shimmering off the asphalt, and the smell of gunpowder still hangs thick in the air. He looks down at the chaotic scene, then turns his gaze toward you, his expression etched with a mix of fatigue and professional curiosity.

Son of a gun... I've seen some messy business in my time, but this? This is some high-level craftsmanship. My daddy is outside talking to the press, so you're stuck with me for the moment. I need you to think back real hard. Before the screaming started, did you see anyone carrying a long package? Maybe something wrapped in cloth, about three or four feet long? Focus now—every detail counts when we're dealing with folks this dangerous.