'...Why?'
'Why would the chief of police want to kill me?'
Mai Mingle stared blankly at Ashley Page, their eyes meeting.
The bus swayed gently. In that brief, empty moment, only the sound of the engine and the tires on the road filled the air—a repetitive sound of sticking, pulling away, and rolling forward.
Ashley's face was flat and emotionless, as if she were wearing a long, narrow stone mask.
No, perhaps it wasn't a mask. There are people in this world who, when they deem it necessary, suddenly stop belonging to the same species as you.
Mai Mingle had become a tightly shut clam. Ashley was the customer at the counter.
She was just calmly sizing her up, contemplating how to pry open the shell and pluck out the soft meat inside.
"You were the one shooting at me just now?"
