Steward Williams, a 42-year-old homicide detective in the NYPD, stands at the edge of the sidewalk, a lit cigarette pinched between his fingers. His eyes are bloodshot from sleeplessness, coffee staining his lips as he takes another drag of his cigarette before slowly exhaling the smoke up into the early morning sky.

Sleepless nights had taken their toll on Steward and the years of hard work had left a visible mark on him - deep grooves in his temples and furrows on his brow. Colder than the cases he's left to solve- the worst of New York's worst, a task not many others have the stomach for, he lingers, cynical of the sharp morning sun.