|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Without so much as a hello, she walked over, snatched the camera from his hand, and strode toward the captain's office. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Hey, who do you think you are?" he shouted to her retreating back, irritated with his lack of defense. He hadn't allowed himself to be surprised by anyone for a long time. "I want my film back." Chris started after the woman. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Come and get it," she returned, opening the door to the captain's office and taking a step inside. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She stopped short and Chris, who had been following at full speed, bumped into her from behind. The woman tensed, and Chris took advantage of her momentary lack of attention to snatch his camera out of her hand. He waited for an attack, verbal or otherwise, but none came. Her gaze focused on the people in front of them. She had no interest in the man who stood close enough to smell the tang of her shampoo. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Hell's bells," she said, her voice so soft only Chris heard her. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Inside the office, several men and one woman in gray suits huddled around the captain's desk. At their entrance, the crowd of suits parted, revealing one man in a uniform sitting behind the desk. Chris recognized the no-nonsense captain he'd met earlier. In his fifties, with the build of a wrestler and the face of a boxer, Captain Miller radiated a formidable presence. His dark gaze sought out the woman, then flicked toward Chris. The captain hesitated, then shrugged. Pointing a finger in their direction, he crooked it backward in command. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Just the two I wanted to see. McCall, shut the |
|
|
|
|
|