One of the benefits of the night shift is having the daytime to rest.
Mike visited all the supermarkets and hardware stores in the area he hadn’t been to before, buying materials he could use—or might eventually need.
Over these past few days, whenever he had time, he secretly worked on improving the design of his silencer.
Since the basement workshop involved his secrets, he also began preparing some simple yet hard-to-detect anti-theft measures.
After all, electronic alarms worked on ordinary burglars, but for intruders with real skills, they were essentially useless.
Around 4:00 PM, Mike drove to the precinct.
There were far fewer people in the precinct lobby than before.
Frank had already arrived and was checking the patrol car.
His silver thermos sat on the hood, steam rising from it.
“Just in time.” Frank pointed to the back seat.
“Hope you brought your own blanket.
It gets cold in the middle of the night; you might want to wrap yourself up.”
Mike tossed his backpack into the back seat.
It contained his night-shift supplies: chocolate, a bottle of water, a brand-new navy blue thermos, and a windbreaker.
Frank caught a glimpse and laughed.
“You bought one too?”
“I don’t think I’ll need a blanket, but a thermos is a necessity.
I picked one out at the supermarket this afternoon.” Mike unscrewed the lid; it was filled with green tea.
“Learning from you.
Drinking coffee at night really does cause heart palpitations.
Tea is a bit better.”
“Smart.” Frank gave him a thumbs-up.
“Welcome to the Old-Timer Club early.”
The two completed the shift handover and drove out of the precinct.
As dusk settled, Brooklyn at night was completely different from the day.
The main roads still had traffic, but the side streets and alleys were eerily quiet.
They handled two bar fights, one domestic noise complaint, and one call regarding a drunk lying in the middle of the road.
After dealing with each situation, Frank would park the car in a relatively hidden spot, and the two would take the opportunity to slack off and rest for a few minutes.
“You have to master the rhythm of the night shift yourself.” Frank sipped black tea from his thermos.
“You can’t go non-stop like you do during the day, otherwise you’ll be too tired to even want to go home by dawn.
And if you run into a major case and have to work overtime, it’ll make you want to die.”
At 10:00 PM, the two parked the car in front of a 24-hour convenience store.
Frank got out to buy two sandwiches and handed one to Mike when he returned to the car.
“Eat something.
Keep your blood sugar up.”
Mike took it and bit into the cold ham sandwich.
The white light from the convenience store shone through the car window.
The street was empty.
“You mentioned you have kids?” Mike started a conversation.
Frank’s chewing slowed down.
He took a sip of tea before slowly speaking.
“Two.
A daughter, sixteen, and a son, fourteen. The source of this chapter is g.com.
They live on the West Coast with their mom.”
“Divorced?”
“Yeah, five years ago.” Frank looked out the window.
“Anna is an elementary school teacher.
We were married for fourteen years, but for the last two, we fought almost every day.
She couldn’t handle my job, and back then, I really wasn’t emotionally stable enough.”
Mike listened in silence.
“One time, I finished handling a domestic violence case where the husband beat the wife to death with a baseball bat.” Frank’s voice was very calm.
“I got home, and Anna had made my favorite beef stew, but I couldn’t eat a single bite.
I couldn’t tell her that I had just seen a corpse with its head deformed…
We had a huge fight that night.
She said she couldn’t take this life anymore.”
“And then the divorce?”
“Separated.
Divorced six months later.
She took the kids and moved to Portland; her sister lives there.
I send alimony every month, and the kids come to stay in New York for a few weeks during summer break.” Frank paused.
“I don’t dare let them come often, and I don’t want them living in New York permanently.”
“Why?”
Frank turned to Mike, his eyes looking weary.
“In our line of work, you’re bound to have enemies.
I’ve arrested drug dealers, robbers, murderers.
Some are already out of prison; some still have associates on the outside.
I can’t be sure my family wouldn’t become targets.”
Mike suddenly remembered Frank’s frequent saying: “Coming home safe after work is a victory.”
“Has a patrol officer’s family ever…” Mike frowned.
Frank nodded grimly.
“What about you?” Frank asked.
“Ever thought about starting a family?”
Mike shook his head.
“Not for now.
I feel like my life right now is…
unstable.”
“Wise.” Frank tossed the sandwich wrapper out the window with a total lack of manners and continued, “If you aren’t ready, don’t rush into it.
Marriage and children are responsibilities, not just love and passion.
I was too young back then, thinking love could solve everything.
But the reality is, if you aren’t stable yourself, how can you give your family stability?”
Mike thought of Sarah.
Previously, he had occasionally felt that their relationship was a bit unfair to her, but after hearing Frank’s words, he suddenly felt that their current status was actually for her benefit.
“Actually, I like kids,” Mike said suddenly.
Feeding them, changing diapers, coaxing them to sleep…
I didn’t find it annoying.”
Frank laughed.
“That’s because you weren’t dealing with them 24 hours a day.
Once you have your own kids, waking up crying three times in the middle of the night and having to go to work the next day, you’ll know what a breakdown feels like.”
“Maybe.” Mike laughed too.
He did like children.
During the years he spent moving between foster homes, taking care of younger children made him feel needed.
Only innocent children would truly accept an outsider orphan like him.
But once kids hit elementary school, they started becoming less cute.
“Cherish what you have now.” Frank started the car and slowly pulled away from the convenience store.
“Single, young, with a steady income.
These are the best times.”
Mike opened his thermos and took a few sips of the now-lukewarm green tea.
The patrol continued.
Frank drove to the next street and parked again in a deserted spot.
He tuned the radio to an oldies station, turning the volume low so the soothing melody flowed through the car.
Just then, a faint but rapid “pop, pop, pop” sound came from the northwest.
Mike immediately sat up straight.
“Did you hear that?
Was that gunfire?”
Frank turned off the radio and tilted his ear to listen.
A few seconds later, another series of “pops” occurred, like a string of firecrackers, but equally faint.
“Can’t hear it clearly.” Frank frowned.
“But since you suspect it’s gunfire, then it definitely is.
This is Hell’s Kitchen, after all.”
“Hell’s Kitchen?”
Mike recognized the name.
It was a famous Manhattan neighborhood in the Marvel stories, known for its high crime rate.
“Don’t worry about it.” Frank shook his head.
“It’s not our jurisdiction, and it’s not our problem.
The NYPD and the DEA have special task forces there.”
The gunfire stopped after about half a minute, and the night returned to silence.
Mike felt that although his Dynamic Vision primarily affected his sight, it also seemed to slightly enhance his hearing and other sensory faculties.
After all, Frank’s hearing was normal; he couldn’t hear it clearly, yet Mike could distinguish it perfectly.
“Is it always like this?” Mike asked again.
Frank turned the radio back on.
“Hell’s Kitchen?
It happens a few times every month.
Gang wars, drug deals gone wrong, or just plain lunatics shooting.
As long as it doesn’t spill over into Brooklyn, we act like we didn’t hear it.”
“It really is a crazy world.” Mike looked toward the northwest.
In the night, the bright skyline of Manhattan’s skyscrapers was clearly visible, but beneath that radiance lay a dark district ruled by gangs.