“BAD COP DAY”
Officer Dale Murphy wasn’t the best on the force.
Just a couple of weeks ago, he had shot and killed a motorist during a routine stop. The report called it justified, but the whispers said otherwise. Witnesses claimed the suspect had been unarmed, and Dale hadn’t slept since. He told anyone who’d listen that the man’s final words weren’t pleas — but a promise:
“I’ll be back.”
Tonight, the rain was torrential. The wind howled. The trees swayed. The radio was silent.
I guess the criminals are taking the day off, Dale thought. Thank God for that.
A lazy shift sounded like a blessing.
It was his first night back since the mandatory suspension. He swung the car around and backed into his old observation point — a narrow cutout off of a stretch of county road lit by yellow streetlamps.
And he hated it.
This was where it all started.
The speeding car.
Dale pulling out behind him.
The sudden movement.
The gun — he was sure it was a gun.
The panic.
The shots.
Two of them.
Point blank.
The investigation ruled that the perp never had a weapon. But his movement had caused Murphy to feel an imminent threat to his life, making the shooting justified.
But what the man said before he died…
That’s what haunted him.
That’s why his hands still trembled on the steering wheel.
Later that night, Murphy radioed in a suspected drunk driver. His voice shook when he asked for backup.
When the second unit arrived minutes later, they found his cruiser parked at an angle, lights still flashing red and blue against the wet asphalt.
The driver’s seat was empty.
The door hung open.
His radio crackled faintly.
But there was no sign of Murphy — no footprints, no struggle, nothing.
Just his hat, sitting neatly on the hood.
The wind had died down to almost nothing by then… just a whisper.
A few officers swore they heard a voice carried on the air:
“I told you so.”
Murphy was never seen…
or heard from again.