The Empty Car and the Toast of Victory

Morning came slow over the outskirts of the city, a pale wash of light that made the dew on the grass look like tiny, scattered diamonds. The police car’s sirens had long since gone, but a small knot of uniforms remained at the side of the old service road, clustered around a dark sedan with one door hanging open.

The vehicle’s engine was cold; the scent of petrol and damp upholstery mixed with something less easy to name, an atmosphere of hurry and ...