Jenna sighed, pulled her hood tighter, and stayed on the train.

Jenna didn’t share the tip. Internal Affairs would bury it. Instead, she swapped her uniform for a thrift-store hoodie, tucked her badge into her boot, and boarded the 8:07 train alone.

“Off,” she said. “Now.”

His hands trembled. The train rattled into the station. “Please,” he whispered. “My mom—she doesn’t know I got fired. I just… I can’t…”

The tip line dinged again. A new message: “He’s not the only one. Check the blue line. Midnight express.”

She let him go. He stumbled back into the night, shoulders hunched.