Then the cruiser pulled up beside me.
Not slowly. Not casually. It rolled to a stop with a sharpness that made it clear this wasn’t a routine check-in. The tires splashed through a shallow puddle, sending water across the curb, and before the engine had fully settled, the driver’s door opened.
Officer Ryan Calloway stepped out first.
Tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of presence that relied more on physicality than conversation. His hand hovered near his holster, not quite touching it but close enough to send a message. The second officer, Jason Miller, exited from the passenger side, moving with less confidence but positioning himself at an angle that suggested he had been trained to follow procedure, even if he didn’t fully understand it.
“Hey,” Calloway said, his tone already edged with suspicion. “Stop right there.”
I stopped.
Not because I felt threatened, but because I wanted to see how this would unfold.
