Deb and Bill Holloway were finishing up their stroll around Golden Sunrise Retirement Community when they heard the sirens. They were a quarter mile up the road when they first saw them, and they slowed down. Bill paused and held Deb’s hand tighter. He’d been trying to get his big break into The Golden Sunrise Weekly Journal and thought that the sirens meant that he would be the first on the scene. He actually walked faster, fearless in the face of danger like a good reporter should be. He scribbled the street name into his notepad. Deb was blessed with the good memory between the two of them. He had tools.

            “This could be my break,” he said, keeping his voice close to a whisper.

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