Hoodie, ballcap, untucked shirt tails, and a shifty demeanor. Chief Detective Akai nodded silently to himself. This was not the guy. He was just a cheap criminal. Still, while wielding the broom, might as well sweep out the cobwebs, too.

The radio in his 4-Runner squawked over the vibrating engine hum and drumming rain. He reached out a leather-gloved hand and gripped the handset.

“P-481, roundabout and head central, we won’t need you tonight,” the chief intoned.

White noise buzzed and coughed for a second after he lifted his thumb.

“P-481, copy. Heading central,” a heavily transformed voice acknowledged.

The chief sighed and replaced the radio. He desperately wanted to smoke, but doing so in a squad vehicle was prohibited, even for a guy of his status. Instead, he reached for his grey fedora and fit it securely on his head, followed by cutting the engine.