The outside of the Central Police Station, where the Chief had his office, looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades. The men and women who fought to protect the city from people like Dinwiddie were forced to work in squalor.
“The Chief?” The Desk Sergeant was incredulous. “Really? Well, his Capital ‘O’ office is up on the third floor, but his real office is in the back booth at Daquila’s bar down the block.” He checked his watch – 9:47 AM. “Yeah. He should be there by now.”