"Yes, Chief," Miller practically squeaked.

"Strip Jenkins of her badge and weapon right now. Put her in the back of your cruiser. Do not let her speak to anyone. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear, Chief."

The line went dead.

The silence that followed was absolute. The neighborhood, which had been watching in breathless anticipation, was dead quiet. Jenkins stood paralyzed, tears streaming down her face, the reality of her actions finally crashing down upon her. Sergeant Miller walked over to her, his face grim.

"Give it to me, Jenkins," Miller said quietly.

With shaking, hesitant hands, Officer Jenkins unpinned the silver badge from her chest and handed it to the Sergeant. She then slowly unbuckled her duty belt, handing over her weapon. Stripped of the power she had so recklessly abused, she looked incredibly small. She looked pathetic. Two other officers escorted her to the back of a cruiser, pushing her head down as she climbed into the back seat—the exact way she had planned to treat me.

Once the cruisers began backing out of the driveway, taking the disgraced officer away, the overwhelming adrenaline finally left my body. My knees went weak. I dropped to the grass, right next to the ruined cake, and buried my face in my hands. The fear I had suppressed—the agonizing thought that I could have lost my life in front of my boy over a birthday party—came flooding out.

"Dad?"

I looked up. Leo was standing there, his face streaked with tears. I pulled him into my arms, hugging him so tightly I thought I might break him. I kissed the top of his head, letting my own tears fall into his hair. "I'm so sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry they ruined your birthday."