Search and Seizure
“Jacobs, you’re gonna be with the bitches today.” That was Sergeant Fox, my supervisor, a man so fat that his girth threatened to shear off the armrests on either side of the spindly office chair that was currently groaning underneath his immense bulk. “We had two call out,” he continued, “so Troyer’s on her own over there. Get over to Women’s Holding and help her out.” At this news I visibly brightened. Working an entire shift with Amy Troyer wasn’t such a terrible prospect. Out of the...