Thirty days.
The countdown has started, North America shivers under the shadow of a massive alien spacecraft, and humanity is hurtling toward an unknown future that lurks at the end of the timer. Somewhere, somehow, the heroes are making their plan...
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MEXICO CITY, MEXICO
August 22, 10:00 AM
It started with a dead body, and the number thirty burned into the victim's forehead.
Murder wasn't unheard of in Detective Mateo Moreno's line of work, but this was different. There didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason connecting the murders, other than the numbers, and by day five, when a fifth victim turned up with a burn, he knew a serial killer was prowling his beloved metropolis of Mexico City.
Now, it was day twenty-two, which meant another body was bound to show up. Yet, it felt like he and his partner were the only ones taking it seriously. He stood at his window, scratching the overgrown stubble on his chin while staring into the yellow haze of smog tainting the sky. While he couldn't prove it, the rapid influx of deaths had to be connected to the UFO's countdown, and there would be more if he didn't find the culprit soon.
Today had to be the day.
"Mateo." Detective Lola Espinoza knocked and stepped into his office. "They found another one."
His shoulders sagged at her words. With his palms braced against the windowsill, he blew out a breath. "Where?"
"Atras del catedral."
Of all the places to find a dead body, behind a church was the last place he would've guessed. Yesterday, one was found in a municipal bathroom at the train station and the day before in a dumpster at a construction site.
What would it be tomorrow?
"Joder!" Mateo cursed and rubbed his temples. "I refuse to have another body turn up on our watch. We have to find the killer today."
"And we will."
A migraine was on the precipice of taking a royal dump on his day, so he reached for the pain medication in his desk and tossed back a few pills. Lola watched with a clenched jaw.
"Que?" he growled.
"I'm worried about you."
"Well, stop."
"That UFO has brought out the worst in you. Look at you. You haven't shaved in days, your morning cup of coffee has turned into five, and you've started smoking again."
"So?"
"You've been nicotine free for ten years, and don't get me started with your temper."
"In case you haven't noticed, Lola, a serial killer is running around Mexico City."
"Oh, I know." But before she continued, she glanced over her shoulder, causing the eavesdroppers to dart their gazes and return to work. With a huff, she closed the office door and glared at Mateo. "You don't sleep. I wake up at night and find you in the living room going over autopsy reports. You're falling apart."
