daily – 65
It feels like the entire neighborhood went suddenly silent and the officers are spotlit under the front walkway light, the only people outside at this hour.
A passing car slows in the inevitable pull of a stopped police car. Hampton turns his head half-heartedly. A cone of hard light shoots from the long flashlight that suddenly appears in Reynold’s hand, sweeping quickly over the car.
“Jim,” Hampton mutters. “Give it a rest.”
Reynolds watches the car pass quickly on. “I hate rubberneckers.”
The windows of the condos lining the other side of the street are all curtained at this hour, but several flicker vaguely from the screens inside. I wave the officers toward me, pretending to smile and trying not to sound too anxious. “Please, come inside.”