Chapter 12
I EXPECTED more wrecked cars, perhaps even blocked intersections, but instead coasted at a steady ten miles an hour down a desolate Main Street. A gentle breeze came through the cruiser’s open windows, and my left elbow automatically found its accustomed place on the top of the door as my right hand gripped the top of the vinyl-covered steering wheel. I could have been on patrol again, and the comfort of routine kept trying to settle into me.
But even my patrols in the earliest part of my career, in the most desolate parts of Detroit, hadn’t been this empty. The scene felt alien, as if the world had changed instead of me. I passed the chunky City Hall building, surrounded by lush green park, and didn’t see anyone in the playground or on the ball diamond. Someone had broken the
