Out of the corner of his eye, Malloy saw Reed watching him. It had been a long morning, and the sun was just coming over the hill–about 6:30. Patrol had taken them down by the wharfs, and large warehouses lined the road on the left. Since it was Sunday, no one was working; they had the street to themselves.
The partners hadn’t talked much between calls. Malloy’s anger had diminished with the darkness, leaving an empty feeling in his chest. “Hey, Partner,” he said. “How do you feel about Seven?”
Reed was always enthusiastic for food. “Great! Where?”
“I don’t know. Wanna try The Brink?”
“Sure.” Reed picked up the microphone. “One-Adam-Twelve requesting Code Seven at Loughlin and Fillmore.”
After a couple of seconds, the response came. “One-Adam-Twelve…
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