The flashing red-and-blue lights finally dimmed as the police packed up their notepads and left us standing by the wreck. Darren had spoken with them calmly, flashing his ID like it was a badge of immunity. They nodded, muttered something about “continuing the investigation,” and one of them turned to Darren.
“We’ll be in touch if we need more details. Expect a call.”
Darren gave them that sharp, clipped nod of his.
“No problem, officers.”
The cruisers rumbled away, leaving behind only the stench of burnt rubber and twisted steel. I stood with my eyes on the front of the car—hood crumpled, bumper hanging like a broken jaw, radiator dripping its last breath onto the asphalt.
Darren walked back over, hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes scanning the ruin. He let out a low whistle.
“
