Her Field Training Officer, a twenty-year veteran named Sergeant Doyle, didn't greet her with a handshake. He slid a cold cup of coffee across the table. “You read that anthology for the academy?”

Doyle smiled for the first time. “No. That’s the unwritten chapter. The one you only get by showing up.”

“His first DOA. Teenager. Overdose.” Doyle’s voice dropped. “He’ll either learn to tell the joke by next month, or he’ll transfer. That’s the ritual.”

“De-escalate. Separate parties. Assess for primary aggressor.”