Other cars were passing. A few drivers slowed down, but nobody stopped.
Marcus dropped his backpack and ran toward the man.
"Sir! Can you hear me?"
The officer was breathing, but his face had turned pale. His radio lay several feet away, and his patrol vehicle was parked along the curb with the driver's door open.
Marcus knelt beside him.
"Please don't die," he whispered.
The officer's eyes opened slightly.
"Radio," he managed to say. "Call for help."
Marcus grabbed the radio and pressed the emergency button.
Within minutes, sirens echoed down the street.
But before the ambulance arrived, the officer caught Marcus by the wrist.
"What's your name, son?"
"Marcus Bennett."
The officer's expression changed.
"Bennett?"
Marcus nodded.
"My dad's name was David Bennett."
For a moment, the injured officer seemed to forget his pain.
"David Bennett from Oakridge?"
Marcus stared.
"Yes, sir. But my dad died when I was a baby."
The officer closed his eyes.
Then he whispered something Marcus would remember for the rest of his life.
"Your father saved my life once."
The following afternoon, Marcus was called to the police station.
The same officer was waiting for him, still looking weak but determined to speak.
He handed Marcus a thick white envelope.
"Your father asked me to keep this until I found the right person."
Marcus looked at the handwriting on the front.
It read:
To my son Marcus, when the truth can finally be told.
And inside that envelope was a secret that had been buried for twelve years.