Blake, are you all right? I raised my eyes and saw what lay on the table. The little girls from the Christmas photo; grandchildren, maybe. Underneath all that toughness is a midwestern girl that still believes in the white picket fence. By the time he started asking Riker questions, I could hear, but there was a ringing echo in my head that didn't seem to want to go away.
He did something on the front of the jaguar skin, and it opened, enough for him to lift the headpiece I would if Edward would let me out on my own. There was intelligence in those brown eyes, but she was naive. He lacked entirely that air that most policemen have of having been ridden hard and put up wet.
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