5 years
Peterson was called by an officer: it was the only time to hear the truck driver's side of the story before he was taken to hospital for assessment. For the other seven men, however, there was nothing more to be done. But Mason already knew that. He avoided telling Peterson about losing one of his guns and replacing it with one he'd found in that mess. His own was probably still burning somewhere.
A diligent nurse insisted on medicating him. Only when he was finally seated in the ambulance did he say to himself that this was not such a bad idea. He was worse off than he thought. As the woman patched him up properly, the detective's eyes lingered on the world beyond the windows. An infinite amount of time had passed.
Almost a lifetime.
Another lifetime.
It had been five years.
