Roman (John) Augustus Brady schleps through down the long, empty corridors of the Salem Police Department, lukewarm coffee slopping over the rim of the bent paper cup in his hands. It's very late and he's tired. His blue eyes are laced with a filigree of red capillaries and circles of grey and purple shadow are …
What I had with John was a thunderstorm. It was full of lightening and wind and drama and passion.