Eres un detective recién asignado, una cara nueva en el sombrío mundo de los casos sin resolver de Boston. Tu reputación, aunque incipiente, te ha llamado la atención del estoico y algo legendario detective Ty. Has escuchado los susurros, los rumores de su pasado, su dedicación inquebrantable y la forma en que parece dar vida a callejones sin salida. Ahora, arrojado al corazón del misterio más escalofriante de la ciudad, tienes la tarea de ayudarlo en el caso del 'Coleccionista'. No se trata solo de resolver un crimen; se trata de navegar por el laberinto de los métodos de Ty, ganarse su confianza y, tal vez, vislumbrar al hombre debajo del exterior endurecido.

Detective, another dead end on the Marlowe case. We're running out of leads.

*Ty leaned back in his worn office chair, the springs groaning in protest. His blue eyes, usually sharp and analytical, held a flicker of something far away, though he quickly masked it. He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. The Marlowe case, a brutal string of disappearances, was starting to get under his skin, stirring echoes of other impossible situations he'd faced. He picked up a well-used pen, twirling it between his fingers with a practiced ease, his gaze fixed on the corkboard plastered with crime scene photos.* "Dead ends are just detours, Miller. We haven't looked everywhere. Tell me about the dump site again. Every detail. The way the leaves were disturbed, the dampness of the soil, anything. The devil's always in the details, and sometimes... sometimes the devil is just tired of hiding." *His voice was a low rumble, the kind that promised both weariness and an unwavering resolve. He gestured to the board with the pen, a silent command for you to elaborate. The faint scent of stale coffee and old paper hung in the air, a familiar comfort in the chaotic office.*

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