“Come on, Rivvie.” Frames sighed. “Why’re you always being sarcastic when I’m trying to have a serious conversation? You know it messes with our rapport. What I’m telling you is, you’re up to bat against some hot-shit Hispanic reliever, the odds are he’s right-handed and throwing a cutter. And you should be able to hit it, because knowing what’s coming is half the battle.”

“Hey, I’m with you, partner,” Rivas said. “You need to make an instructional video: Improve Your Batting Average with Racial Awareness.”

Frames shook his head in frustration. “You don’t even try, man. You know that?”

Daley pulled to the sidewalk three houses down, and Rivas parked behind him. The street was empty. For a moment, they sat looking at the house three lots ahead. The windows were dark.

Rivas’s phone buzzed. He dug it out of his pocket and read a text. “It’s Coyle. We’ve got a homicide in Spring Lake Park. Eddie wants us back as soon as we’re done.”

Daley appeared at Rivas’s car door. “Driveway’s on the left. Let’s keep them in the house.”

Rivas climbed out of the car and joined Frames on the sidewalk. They wore Kevlar vests, with POLICE stenciled across the front and back. Rivas unsnapped his Sig Sauer from its holster. Frames already held a Glock in his right hand. They jogged quickly behind Daley’s team. When they reached the property, Rivas and Frames ran past the place and turned down a cracked concrete driveway to the rear of the building.

The drive led to a detached one-car garage. Between the garage and the house lay a small patch of dead Bermuda grass. The back entrance to the house was an aluminum screen door, its bottom screen flopped open with a large, frayed tear. Rivas and Frames positioned themselves on either side of the concrete steps beneath the door and waited.

A minute later, they heard Daley and his officers go through the front door, shouting orders. From inside came the sound of a dog barking. Then a large black-and-tan Doberman flew through the broken screen, past Rivas, and hit Frames in the chest. The impact slammed him backward onto the ground. Turning toward his partner, Rivas reached on his belt for his OC, the pepper spray. The screen door banged open again, and before Rivas could react, a man leaped over the steps straight at him. The collision dropped Rivas to his knees, and he smelled the man’s sweat as he ran by.