Chapter 59

A POLICE CAR IS PARKED IN THE driveway of a cozy bungalow. Three officers—Thompson, Rodriguez, and Jenkins—stand in the yard, their eyes scanning the area with a sense of confusion.

It appears as though a wild celebration, orchestrated by Mother Nature herself, has taken place in the street. Shards of broken glass litter the pavement, sparkling like scattered diamonds. Streetlights lean precariously, as if they were tired partygoers, while the broken windows of nearby houses gape like stunned onlookers.

Rodriguez, his mustache twitching, thoughtfully rubs his chin. "What on earth could have caused this disaster?" he wonders aloud.

Officer Thompson, his wire-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, raises his hands in resignation. "I'm at a loss! The locals are torn between a bomb blast and an earthquake. Your guess is as good as mine!"

Jenkins, hands firmly on her hips, raises a skeptical eyebrow. "An earthquake? In our quiet little town? That’s hard to believe."

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