Under a Raging Moon

EPILOGUE

Fall 1994

The doctor looked at his watch. Fifty minutes had passed since the officer had sat down and now the session had come to an end.

The officer noticed him looking and said, “Our time is up, huh, doc?”

The doctor nodded.

“So what’s the verdict?” the officer asked him.

Instead of answering, he asked, “Why don’t you tell me?”

“You mean, am I crazy? Whacked out over shooting that banger? Or getting shot myself?” He shook his head. “No. I’m okay with it. And I’ll get through whatever the department is sending my way, too. One way or another.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I don’t do this job for them,” the officer stated simply.

“Why do you do this job then?”

“Aren’t we out of time?”

The doctor waved his comment away. “It’s fine. We have a few minutes yet.”

The officer shrugged, then continued. “I do this job to do the right thing. To be on the right side. To help people.” He paused for a long moment. The doctor was about to ask him another question when he said quietly, “I do this job to make a difference.”

The doctor nodded at the common sentiment among police officers. “Have you?” he asked the officer. “Have you made a difference?”

The officer smiled wryly, staring down at his own hands. “Well, now that’s the real question, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is,” the doctor agreed. “Have you found an answer?”

The officer looked up at him, his face showing nothing other than a calm expression.

“Time will tell,” he said.