“Stand back by the mailbox, please,” Officer Boyd said, gesturing toward the front yard.
I retreated down the walkway, my heels digging into the dry grass near the curb. The metal mailbox was hot under my hand as I gripped the post, watching the two officers walk back onto the porch.
The male officer positioned himself to the side of the door frame, his shoulder tense beneath his dark blue uniform. Officer Boyd stood directly in front of the lock, her hand resting flat on her holster.
“Police department,” she called out, her voice echoing off the brick siding. “Open the door.”
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the hum of a distant lawnmower three streets over.
The male officer took a short step back, raising his right boot. He drove his heel into the wood right beside the brass deadbolt with a sharp, explosive crack that echoed through the quiet neighborhood.
