—- 

Her foot was a little too heavy on the brake as she pulled into the station.  The car jerked to a stop in the space she’d driven into.  Jenny looked around, making sure no one had witnessed her uneasy driving, and climbed out of the car.  She rubbed the palm of a sweaty hand across her eyes, wiping sleep from them as she made her way into the station.  Her heart was beating fast, and her pulse raced nervously.  She still didn’t know what to expect when she entered the building.  Shane had left a message saying she was at the station, but had made no mention of why.  Jenny paused for a moment wondering if she should even have showed up.  Perhaps Shane’s vagueness in the details of how she’d ended up there was meant as a red flag, a plea for non intervention.  Then again Shane was always a little vague, and if she hadn’t wanted Jenny to show up on her behalf; would she have called at all?

The front door to the station swung open, revealing a lobby, filled with occupants of questionable character.  On a bench at the far end, sat a dirty, bearded man in handcuffs.  ‘Not the place to sit.’ thought Jenny.  She looked at a closer target, a row of chairs where an officer sat keeping a woman in a blanket steady.  As the doors blew open behind her, a gust of wind blew past Jenny, lifted a scent from the woman that smelled distinctly of alcohol and urine.  Jenny looked at the officer seated behind a booth in the lobby.  Perhaps it would simply be best to speak with this man, and avoid waiting till someone came to help her.

She approached his desk.  "Excuse me sir.  My name is Jenny Schecter.  I just got a call from my roommate Shane McCutcheon.  She came down here to speak to a detective.  I was wondering if you could tell me where I can find her?"  The man gazed at her with a bored, glazed expression and then looked back down at a magazine he was reading, though his eyes didn’t appear to be scanning lines of print.  "No one can see detainees till they’ve posted bail."  Jenny was taken aback by the man’s apathetic dismissivness.  She cleared her throat loudly, getting his attention.  "She wasn’t arrested.  She got a call earlier tonight from a detective Ben Nguyen.  He wanted to speak to her about something.  I came down to see her.  Can you at least tell me if she’s still here?"  The man stared back at Jenny with an annoyed expression.  Then, he reached over and picked up a phone, dialing an extension and rolling his eyes lazily.  "Ya… Hi…  Peterson at the front desk…  Ya…  I’ve got a lady here that says Detective Nguyen is talking with her friend, she wants to see her…  McCushion."  "McCutcheon," Jenny corrected him.  Then cop gave her a pointed, "I could care less," expression.  "Ya…  Okay… No, I can’t do it myself…  Well there isn’t anyone else working the desk…  So, have someone come down and get her…"  The officer hung up and placed the receiver back on the phone.  "Someone’s coming down to get you."  He attempted to go back to staring at whatever graced the page he’d been staring at, but lost his concentration when he saw Jenny still standing here.  He pointed a the row of chairs.  "You can take a seat over there."  Jenny sighed, dejectedly, and took a seat as far away from the drunken woman as possible.