She recognized her from the other night. Small, her blond hair cut into a shoulder-length bob with a green baseball cap on top, and startling green eyes. She also recognized the woman with her, just as short but with spiky dark brown hair, an orange cap, and brown eyes. Rosamund Fairfax was pretty and perky and not a wart in sight—nothing like a witch.In fact, they both appeared so normal and sort of wholesome that Faith winced. She’d been on the police force since she’d left school fourteen years ago, and she spent a lot of time mixing with lower forms of life. People who looked like this didn’t tend to get mixed up with the police.She stood as they approached; she was a good six inches taller than either of them. Tara wore jeans, high-heeled sandals, and a pink T-shirt. Roz was dressed the same but her T-shirt was crimson and cropped at the waist baring her midriff with a matching ruby belly-button ring. They made Faith feel dull by comparison in her sensible black pantsuit and very conscious of the pistol shoved in the holster at the small of her back.
