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D.J. Halloran wasn't one for frilly panties, not that Chris had ever imagined she would be. Plain white cotton briefs for her, with serviceable bras, also white cotton. Jeans, flannel shirts, and a pair of long johns rounded out her ensemble, with some T-shirts and sweat socks on the side. Irritated with himself for cataloguing her private items, Chris slapped the top of the case shut before checking the .9 mm and the clip. |
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Ready to rock, as he'd known it would be. D.J. Halloran wouldn't go on a job without a working back-up firearm. It must be a sin in the good little cop's handbook. |
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Chris had just snapped the clip into place when D.J.'s voice came from the other room. |
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"McCall, you're not going to believe this. Get in here." |
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He spun around and sprinted through the connecting door, taking one leap onto the middle of the bed and landing in a crouch on the other side. |
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She stared at him, her eyes wide and full of mirth. Then she burst out laughing. "Very impressive, McCall. Who do you think you are?" She gave a final snort of laughter. "Batman?" |
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Chris frowned. As a kid he had pretended to be Batman. He'd found the similarities between himself and the Caped Crusader numerous. Funny how D.J. had honed in on the same idea. |
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"I thought you needed me." A roll of D.J.'s eyes revealed what she thought of that statement. Chris sighed and ignored her sarcasm. "What happened?" |
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"Look." She pointed with her gun out the window. |
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