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A father-daughter double-homicide opens Segura’s dark debut. It seems as though it’s all in a day’s work for Omaha reporter Bernard Cockburn, who corrects everyone on the pronunciation of his name: Co-burn. The cheap joke doesn’t get old, and neither does Cockburn’s miserable outlook. The misanthropic narrator endears himself with some sharp truths and darkly comic observations; regarding a strung-out hooker, he says: “…if real estate developers ever found a way to gentrify bodies, this lady’d make a prime candidate.”

At the crux of Segura’s crime thriller is the unusual redevelopment of a blighted Omaha vice district that is also an EPA Superfund wasteland. Cockburn tangles with a tight-lipped prostitute, Luka, and uncovers a deeper story to sell to his trusting editor, Manny. Trouble is, his paper just signed a lucrative advertising deal with NuCorp, the amorphous conglomerate funnelling all of the money into the rehabilitation. Of course, the real-estate conspiracy goes much deeper than vacant houses and a renegade neighbourhood watch group. As his girlfriend, Allison, ups the domestic pressure on him, Cockburn chases his leads, who keep turning up dead.

Segura knows how to balance pathos and suspense, creating a surprisingly humane narrator who rapidly leads the way into a dark world. There’s something engrossing about watching Cockburn dance with the lowest rung of society, which may be Segura’s deftest move: reminding us that, like Cockburn, we like the muck. Robert Duffer