On Monday, all twenty-four people on the 31st floor of a Brooklyn hedge fund call in sick. Nobody's hurt. Nobody will say why.

At 3:30 a.m., one of them is found standing on a roof ledge in Cobble Hill. Barefoot. Eyes open. Fast asleep. Whispering trade orders.

Detective Jake Mercer hasn't slept properly in three years. His partner Ray talks every case through with him in the car. And this one doesn't make sense, until it does.

Case One of the Jake Mercer thrillers. Nothing in it is what it looks like.