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Not that a shooting would be unusualcrime existed in Lakeview, though not in as great an abundance as in a larger city. But this time a fifteen-year-old boy had been shot by a police officer, and the media was raising a hue and cry. Even though the kid had been involved in a shoot-out with the officer, in a small town like Lakeview his age made him the stuff of martyrdom. |
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A flurry of activity at the front of the station drew Chris's attention. He turned to see a young woman walk through the double doors, reporters buzzing at her heels. |
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Despite the anger in her stride, her face reflected no such emotion. Fascinated, Chris stared at her. Tall and lean, she carried herself with a confidence found only in women well able to defend themselves. Her russet hair had been cropped close to her head, short enough to remove the curls but not enough to erase a natural wave. Fine bones defined a regal face that matched her bearing. Ivory skin that would have looked pale on someone else did not dare on this woman. |
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She stopped short, just inside the door, and glared at her band of followers. |
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"No comment," she snapped, staring down those who would have questioned her further. Surprisingly, the reporters backed off. |
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When she turned, her eyes met Chris's, and they widened, revealing an evergreen hue. Then she caught sight of the camera in his hand and frowned, obviously deciding the enemy had invaded her sanctum. |
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