Max Renzi was running out of time. Scurrying through the crowd, his beady eyes scanning over the policemen, the TV reporters, the children clogging the sidewalk, he figured he had an hour, maybe two, before D.C. got too hot for him.
He’s a cop. I’m not. It’s a Ride-Along Program. I did one before. With a cop who wouldn’t talk.
I knew I had made a mistake in thinking I could leave my children unattended for even one minute!
“Thieves,” Officer Summers said, “are generally lazy.”
Ah, those eyes. You look into them, and you still see the fire, at least for a little while . . .