Though he hated the idea of going anywhere near police, Eli walked into the station with a firm grip on his duffle and his chin held high. He let Jarrett do the talking, taking a measure of comfort in the low, even cadences of his voice, and followed obediently when a stocky woman led them away from the crowded reception area to the cooler, quieter bowels of the building. Nobody gave them a second look as they passed. Eli and Jarrett could have been anyone. Drug dealers. Witnesses. Murderers. He almost felt sorry for all the cops. What a world to inhabit where people lost personalities and instead became the sum total of their actions. If ever a day came when he was inured to the individual flaws and beauties of the world’s inhabitants, he would give up his pencils and pads for good.
The
