A gothic doorway beneath crossed brass spears. The keystone is chiseled with a curving notice: POLICE STATION.
Jan had left the top to her sweater set on the back of her office chair, so she now has a mylar blanket as a shawl. Jan's dad is trying his best to get his voice heard through the ancient glory hole in the stone door of the precinct.
Mr. Jansdaad: We'd like to report an abduction!
Suddenly, a speaker crackles to life. You don't have to yell, sir we are fully miked now. From what you say, this sounds like a K event, and I'm sure you know we can't and don't investigate or prosecute K events. But we'll send out a hooptie. Mr. Brentridge's estate will be reimbursed for any damage to the cave structure if indeed a K event is confirmed.
Both Jan and her dad sigh deeply and walk quickly in each other's arms across the stone pavement and out of the armored courtyard, back to the bustling lunchtime street. They turn and stand back together against a wall.
Jan: I don't think she'd kill him.
Jan's dad: I hope not, sweetheart. But that's her choice now, isn't it?