60
I sat at my office desk Tuesday morning, sipping a cold drip iced coffee from around the corner. It was sunny outside, but a breeze teased the branches overhanging my office and flowed through the screen door. Coupled with the ceiling fans, my space was downright comfortable. In short, I was still riding my weekend-with-Mike high, when John Driscoll called from the TPD to threaten my beautiful state of mind.
Where did we stand, I wondered? I’d given John a tip that may have helped apprehend bad guys and advance his career. Of course, then I may have made him look bad by ignoring a “request” to come in for an interview to further the investigation. Hmm… In these situations, I find it’s best to let the caller demonstrate his intentions first.
“So, a SWAT raid, huh?” he asked.
John did
