I slowed the cruiser and pulled alongside him. Up close, I noticed the sweat first. His shirt was darkened across the shoulders and down his back, clinging to him despite the cool air. His breathing was heavy, but not frantic. It was the kind of breathing you get after sustained effort, not fear.
I tapped the siren once. Short. Controlled. “Hey,” I called through the window. “Mind stopping for a second?” He stopped immediately. Not reluctantly. Not startled. He turned toward me like he’d been expecting the interruption. For a split second, his eyes didn’t quite focus, then they sharpened, settling on me with a neutral expression that felt oddly distant.