Jim parks in his assigned spot and turns off the car. Then he places a hand on Alan’s thigh. “Relax, will you?” he says softly.
“I’m a little angry,” Alan admits.
“No shit.” Jim rubs down Alan’s leg to pat his knee. “But going in there with your guns blazing is sure to make Brooks clam up. Let’s just hear what he has to say.”
As Alan gets out of the car, he mutters under his breath, “This better be good.”
* * * *
From the parking garage, Jim leads the way into the police station through a back door he has to swipe his badge to open. Inside, Alan follows him through a maze of corridors lined with doors—some open, most closed. From what he can see as they pass, many of the rooms are offices. “One of these yours?” he asks softly.