Chapter 4

The morning sun spilled across the garage ramp of Wilshire Division.

Kevin steered with one hand, skillfully guiding a seventeen-year-old Ford Crown Victoria toward the street. The old patrol car's chassis even rattled a bit, but under his control it felt as steady as if it were gliding along the ground.

"You've earned this, kid. Your performance totally deserves all of it."

In the passenger seat, veteran officer David patted the dashboard, his tone full of undisguised approval.

At the Los Angeles Police Department—the LAPD—a rookie's probation period usually lasted eighteen months. That was a grueling stretch filled with evaluations, getting chewed out, and high washout rates. But Kevin had done it in just six months.

Unprecedented. An absolute standout.

A calm smile played at the corner of Kevin's mouth as he casually picked up the radio and pressed the transmit button.

"7-Adam-15, starting patrol."

A sweet female voice immediately came through: "Copy, 7-Adam-15. And by the way, welcome back, our newly sworn officer Kevin."

In high spirits, Kevin raised an eyebrow and replied: "Thanks, Emma. To show my appreciation for your support, I'll buy you coffee after shift."

The radio suddenly fell dead silent.

Two seconds later, that sweet voice shot up eight octaves, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"Fuck you! Kevin! I'm Emily!"

Kevin's hand jerked, nearly driving the Crown Vic onto the curb.

"Hahaha—!"

The car immediately erupted with David's pig-like laughter. He doubled over, tears nearly streaming down his face.

"Oh man! You actually dared to mess with the T-Rex from Parker Center dispatch! Emily Clark is famous for holding grudges!" David wiped his eyes while mocking him, taking a while to catch his breath. "But seriously, how did your driving suddenly get so smooth today? This piece of junk feels like I'm riding in a boat."

"Maybe the previous driver was just terrible, or maybe those lazy guys in the motor pool finally got around to replacing the shocks on this old beast." Kevin shrugged, making something up. He couldn't exactly say it was a side effect of his overall physical improvement.

David leaned back in his seat, watching the Los Angeles streetscape fly past the window, and suddenly sighed.

"Kid, honestly, I didn't think you'd come back."

After that hellish shootout last time, David had assumed this young man would choose a safer department, or just leave the force altogether.

Kevin kept one hand on the wheel, glanced at him sideways, his tone casual: "Buddy, I think the people of Los Angeles need me. More importantly, I couldn't bear to let you face those drugged-up crazies and gang members alone with your old bones."

David pursed his lips. He had twenty-two years on the job—three more years and he could collect his full pension and retire with honor. He glared at Kevin and steered the conversation back: "Seriously though, how the hell did you get so tight with those dispatcher girls at Parker Center?"

"Probably because they hit on me first." Kevin said with a straight face. "They said my voice sounds sexy over the radio."

David rolled his eyes, but his gaze suddenly became as sharp as a hawk's, his tone probing: "You're not dating anyone inside Wilshire Division, are you? I already told you—never look for a partner in the same unit. That's just asking for trouble."

"Of course not." Kevin answered firmly. "Your teachings are carved into my bones, David."

David nodded with satisfaction, but then, as if remembering something truly terrifying, his body lurched forward, staring fiercely at Kevin.

"Listen, kid! I know you're popular with the girls, but I don't want to hear Katherine's name come out of your mouth! Not once! Don't even think about it!"

Katherine Murphy. David's only daughter, Master's in forensic science, the youngest and most beautiful female forensic examiner at the LAPD.

Kevin immediately released one hand and made a zipping motion across his mouth, then quickly changed the subject.

The sunlight was perfect, and traffic on the street wasn't heavy. Kevin glanced at the peaceful neighborhood and casually muttered something.

"It's kind of quiet this morning."

The moment those words left his mouth, David's expression changed instantly. Like he'd seen a ghost—that wrinkled old face turned green.

"Shut up! You idiot!" David immediately reached to cover Kevin's mouth. "Damn it! Don't you know that's a forbidden word!"

At the exact same second David roared, the radio on the center console went off right on cue.

Dispatcher Emily's voice came through ice-cold, carrying a hint of sweet revenge: "7-Adam-15, complaint on Devon Street about someone making excessive renovation noise. Code 2, go handle it."

Kevin suppressed a laugh and pressed the transmit button: "7-Adam-15, copy."

David slumped back in his seat, pointing at Kevin's nose, grinding his teeth: "Shut up, kid. I don't want to hear another word from you right now!"

...

The noise complaint on Devon Street was handled without incident.

A Mexican family was renovating their house. Kevin checked with the noise meter—the decibels were completely within legal limits. The caller was a white lady next door. It wasn't really about noise at all—purely racial prejudice against Mexican immigrants, just looking for reasons to complain.

Kevin gave them a quick talk and closed the case in a few minutes.

Noon, twelve o'clock.

"7-Adam-15, Code 7."

After reporting their meal break to dispatch, Kevin and David parked the car in front of a Mexican restaurant. As soon as they pushed open the door, the aroma of grilled meat and rich spices hit them.

In a corner booth, Sergeant Mona Cole and rookie Nathan Fillion were already there, digging in.

The two men carried trays loaded with Mexican wraps, meat skewers, and fresh juice over to join them.

"Congratulations, Kevin." Mona swallowed a bite of grilled meat, looking at Kevin with a rare hint of warmth. "Six months to complete probation—you've made history at Wilshire Division."

"Thank you, ma'am." Kevin smiled as he sat down.

Nathan Fillion, sitting across from them, looked completely miserable, staring at Kevin with eyes full of envy and resentment. He'd switched careers to become a cop in his forties—his physical fitness and reflexes weren't great, and he had to suffer daily under the notoriously strict Mona. Life was rough.

"We're both rookies—why is it so easy for you?" Nathan bit into his wrap like he was venting his frustration.

"Because he's not just capable—he also knows how to flirt." David cut in mercilessly, then vividly recounted Kevin's radio mix-up from that morning.

After hearing it, Mona looked at Kevin sympathetically: "Kevin, you're done for. After offending Emily, this story will definitely spread through every division of the LAPD before end of shift today."

"Compared to offending Emily, he did something even dumber today."

David took a sip of juice, then suddenly lowered his voice like he was announcing some terrible secret: "This guy actually said during patrol that 'it's kind of quiet this morning.'"

The moment those words came out, the atmosphere at the booth instantly froze.

Nathan even stopped chewing, his eyes wide.

Mona's previously smiling face immediately darkened. She put down her wrap and stared at Kevin with extreme seriousness.

"Kevin, you're a sworn officer now—how could you make such a rookie mistake!" Mona's tone was sternly uncompromising.

At the LAPD, "quiet" was an absolute forbidden word. Whoever dared say those two syllables would almost immediately be followed by the most brutal shootout or the most bizarre major case—it was practically an iron law. It had caused countless officers to fall into deadly crises completely unprepared.

Seeing Mona and David's grave expressions, Kevin dropped his smile and honestly admitted his mistake: "Sorry, ma'am. It was my fault. I promise there won't be a next time."

The atmosphere at the table became unusually heavy, and even the grilled meat seemed to lose its flavor.

Mona's gaze drifted toward the window, watching the bustling crowds on the street, her brow furrowing tighter and tighter.

With Kevin's level of "jinx" already proven, when exactly this afternoon would this eerie calm be completely shattered?