Maggie
The inside of a police station is a lot less dramatic than television makes it look.
There are no detectives screaming at suspects, no dramatic confessions, and nobody getting slammed onto desks.
It’s just blinding fluorescent lights, cheap blue plastic chairs, a vending machine humming loudly in the corner…
And me.
I sit there in my stupid black work apron, feeling like the absolute dumbest person on the planet.
The young officer who chases me down is leaning against the front desk, taking his sweet time filling out a mountain of paperwork. Every couple of minutes, he glances over his shoulder at me—probably making sure I don’t try to bolt out the front doors.
He doesn’t need to worry.
I’m entirely done running.
A woman in uniform walks over, a clipboard tucked firmly unde
