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"They know too much and there was no time or a way to preclude that happening if we were going to prevent Ada from being killed." But how could these people, whoever they are, know so quickly? You said that you had Ship shut down communication shortly after Charlotte gave Art the gun. I know that you said you felt you should hurry to Ada's, but surely this ... person had no way of knowing that Charlotte didn't shoot Art."Jeff sighed. "But the bastard did. We were mere minutes ahead of the assassin at Ada's. Not only did this guy know Charlotte had not been successful, he must have had someone already stationed to kill Ada." Jeff hesitated for a second before going on. "The only way I can think of that the sequence of events could happen would be if he has an informant up here somewhere that reports regularly. Knowing that Charlotte had the weapon and that we had scheduled a tour with the supervisor, this guy must have been waiting for a message from the informant. Or ... it could. “Never can tell when I might find a damsel in distress who needs something pried open.”“Well, that sounds like just what I need! OK... Jack, Right?” I chirped with excitement. “I’ll see you in half an hour, OK? You and your big tool? Don’t you dare be late!” I added with a wink.Jack gave me a nod, and I waved in reply as I happily skipped off around the corner of the house. I spent the next half hour nervously tidying the place up. Right on time, thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and let him in. “Hi again,” I grinned. “Prompt and eager. I like that.”“Never keep a lady waiting,” Jack replied with a casual smile. I noticed that he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from my tight cut-off teeshirt. I stuck my chest out towards him. “You like ‘em?” I inquired.“What? Oh, Yeah! They’re looking spectacular! I’m a huge fan, and watch them whenever I get a chance,” he replied in reference to the big bold ‘LAKERS’ logo printed across the front of my.
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Her vices included working at home, eating raw cookie dough and sleeping far too late on Sundays. Her son’s were much simpler, he watched hockey. Well, we do live in Hockey Town, Anne thought as she made a tick beside one student’s error. God, I hate grading essays. The sound of the game’s announcer filtered back through her thoughts. ‘This brings Zimmerman up to ten goals for the season,’ he said and Anna looked up in time to see the cameras pan towards the Red Wings bench. They zoomed in on a bearded man with bright eyes and a perpetual smirk. Anna stifled a sigh and looked away before her usual fantasies could take over. She loved hockey almost as much as her son, at least he came by it honestly. Since living in St. Clair Shores, just outside of Detroit, she’d come to know most of the Red Wings by name and face. They rarely made it to a game though, a fact for which Anna was truly sorry. Riley talked about going all the time but she couldn’t afford decent seats. She couldn’t.

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