Jay hates the city. Any city. The city makes his blood pound, his hands shake, his mouth dry. Because he's waiting for the bitter whine of the siren, the flickering light, the roar of the engine that tells him someone else's son, someone else's daughter is in trouble, maybe even as much trouble as Sammy. And it's almost more than he can bear.
He's passed three so far. In the elevator he's shaking. Can't let Danny see him like this. Hands clenched in pockets he presses his lips together.
"Double parked," he rehearses. And longs for the quiet of home.