The rain fell in icy torrents, the alley a slick graveyard of grime. A turkey lay on the wet asphalt, its roasted skin shining under the flickering streetlight. Stuffing seeped out, mixing with the dirt, like the bird had been gutted and abandoned. Detective Kato pulled his coat tighter, rain dripping down his collar. “Who does this?” he muttered, his breath fogging in the cold. Dry leaned against the wall, his soaked fedora drooping. “Some sick bastard,” he growled. “I should be home right now, not standing here in the rain over a damn turkey.” Kato crouched, frowning. “This wasn’t random. Someone wanted it found.” Dry exhaled sharply, his voice bitter. “Yeah? Well, I’m not thankful.” Kato lit a cigarette, the smoke curling in the freezing air. “Welcome to Thanksgiving in this city.”