would start humming the Saturday song. When the department had its holiday party, David would get up with his guitar at the end and they’d all sing it, a bunch of tired cops in ugly sweaters, arms around each other’s shoulders, way off key.
Ray Delgado was his partner. Ray was shorter than David, wiry, with a mustache and a temper and two daughters he talked about constantly. They were the kind of partners who finished each other’s sentences and argued about baseball for eight straight hours. Ray came to
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