23
Zack parked his Land Rover as close to the entrance of the police station as he could and got out. He winced the moment his right foot touched the ground, the painkillers he had taken when he got up – twice the recommended dose – were not doing a good enough job of blocking out the pain from his various injuries; the ankle he had twisted, while not the most serious injury, was making the most ‘noise’, which didn’t surprise him because he couldn’t rest it, so it was constantly being aggravated.
Slowly and painfully, he limped around to the front of the building, and then up the steps to the entrance. Once inside he crossed to the counter, where he had to wait almost a minute for anyone to appear to deal with him.
“Is Sergeant Mitchell in?” he asked when a constable finally arrived.
“
