The black police officer was a young man of rather portly stature, with a naive-looking face that probably beamed with infectious cheer when he smiled.
But at this moment, he was likely incapable of any such expression, as he lumbered and quavered towards them, drenched in sweat with his back, armpits, and chest all soaked through. It was a bright, sunlit day, yet he appeared as if caught in the direst chill of winter, his entire body trembling.
Even the slowest to catch on could tell he was in the throes of intense fear.
"Ronnie, what happened? Didn't you and Nade just go out on fieldwork, to a murder scene?"
Nathan, the white detective in the sweater, stepped forward to greet him and asked.
Everyone in the office sensed that something was amiss and gathered around. Ronnie the officer, clearly past the point of pleasantries, looked straight at Stanna, his lips trembling as he began to speak and fervently handed over a photograph he was clutching tight.