The lights of the city skyline seemed to wink as they picked up the ripples on the river,

and the muted hum of city sounds drifted across the Missouri to the Iowa side,

as if those winking lights knew something, as if that hum was gossip.

A jet plane descended to Epi Airfield.

Broke the spell.

Because, of course, cities don't really know, secrets, or when something is about to happen.

Though something certainly was any minute now.

It was unusually mild for Midwest evening so late in autumn.

Snow was sparse and threadbare in the park on the Iowa side of the Missouri River.

It was the first week of December in the year of Our Lord 2015, just past 6.30 p.m.

Quite dark now.

And then...

No question what that was.

It was followed by this.

I want to get a severe emergency.

Oh, yeah.

I've been shot in a later.

It was a woman, in pain, obviously.

She told the 911 operator she had come to the park alone in her car.

I'm in the park, Sam.

I'm in talking about on the first-hand side.

I have a little right to a Yoda and I'm playing like to it.

...