Behind the façade of the crisp, dark suit, under a sharp haircut and behind pale blue eyes, was a place of anguish. Steve Nastos walked down the street, avoiding eye contact with various lawyers, court clerks and police officers in the court district of Downtown Toronto. Not long ago, he had been a respected detective in the Sexual Assault Unit, a father to a seven–year–old girl and a husband to a beautiful wife. He now wondered what kind of a father or husband he could be in jail.

Despite his best efforts, his smile eroded at times as the natural walker’s sway of his arms was constricted and squeezed from the handcuffs digging into his wrists behind him. His shoulders, aching for relief, burned from the weight of his increasingly heavy arms. The last time he had worn cuffs was in training at Police College, twenty–five years and thirty pounds ago; they were a little tighter and heavier now.

Detective Steve Nastos is on trial for murdering his dentist, a man who Nastos believes committed an unspeakable crime against his daughter. When Nastos is freed on bail he tries to track down the actual killer, but is handicapped by his recovering alcoholic lawyer, as well as a rogue cop and a judge who has little concern for the truth. Separated from his wife, whom he still burns for, Nastos has to protect her when she becomes involved in the case.

Cherry Beach is a quiet area on the Toronto waterfront where bad cops do bad things to worse people. When you ride the express, you can expect life to speed out of control.