A Routine Patrol That Didn’t Feel So Routine
Officer Marc Delaney had worn the uniform for more than ten years.
He had seen almost everything: drunk drivers at dawn, families shattered by accidents, houses gone silent after domestic fights, and the quiet, unbearable grief of parents identifying a loved one in the morgue.
He thought he was hard to surprise. That Saturday afternoon seemed calm enough. The sky was heavy and gray, the kind of weather that made the city look muted, as if someone had turned down the volume on life. Marc’s patrol car rolled steadily along the outskirts of town, his hand draped loosely over the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the road out of pure habit.