The York Police station is what you’d expect.
A squat building with a number of squad cars parked outside and police officers roaming in and out of the building. When I got to the door, I could open it of course but walking in, I saw a woman seated at a desk behind a plastic wall with a small slot for paperwork.
She was writing something down but when she glanced up at me, she quirked a brow.
“Hi.” I didn’t really know what to say.
“Hello,” she said slowly, pursing her lips. She was dressed normally. If she was a cop, she didn’t look it. “Are you here to file a claim?”
“Uh, no.” Shifting, I frowned.
“Oh-kay.” Straightening, she c****d her head to the side, looking me over, evaluating. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”
“I was kind of . .
