The public was watching now, asking why a town that prided itself on being quiet suddenly couldn’t stop a thief. We needed something. And I needed it more than most. I was six months into the job—fresh out of training, still learning how much of policing came down to instinct instead of procedure.
I wanted to prove I could do more than respond after the fact. That I could spot the detail everyone else missed. That night, I drew the late patrol. It was just past three in the morning, the hour where the city feels suspended between days. The streets were quiet, but not peaceful. Porch lights glowed behind drawn curtains. Cars sat untouched in driveways.