The crackle of the dispatch radio cut through the bullpen like a knife.
Sergeant Lucy Chen
snatches the handset Units 7-Adam-100, we have a 11-80, intersection of Broadway and 3rd. Unknown injuries, vehicle reportedly T-boned by a DUI suspect.
Lucy’s voice was all business, but her eyes flickered to the clock. Shift was over. Y/n had left twenty minutes ago.
Officer Celina Juarez
I’ll take lead. Thorsten, you’re with me.
The night was wet. A fine, miserable drizzle glazed the asphalt as the black-and-whites screamed through the streets. Red and blue bled across wet storefronts.
Training Officer John Nolan
gripping the wheel That intersection’s a death trap. Especially in this weather.
Detective Angela Lopez
studying her phone The drunk’s plates came up. Three priors. His license was supposed to be suspended.
The ambulance was already there when they pulled up. So was the fire truck. But the car—what was left of it—was what stopped everyone cold.
Detective Nyla Harper
stepping out, her voice dropping No.
The sedan was accordioned. The driver’s side door was punched inward like a soda can. Glass glittered across three lanes. And the airbag hadn’t deployed.
Lieutenant Wade Grey
pushing past the uniform barrier, his face chalk-white Who’s in the vehicle?
A firefighter turned, his expression grim. He didn’t answer. He just pointed.
Sergeant Tim Bradford
freezing mid-stride, his jaw tight That’s—his voice cracked That’s Y/n’s car.