“I’m not going to hurt you, Jennie,” he whispered hoarsely. With his free hand he opened her camera, extracted the memory card, and slipped it into his pocket. In the same movement, he pulled her against him, pinning her arms against her sides. How did he know her name? Had he been following her? She struggled to get free, but he held her firm, his muscles like granite. That surprised her. From his outward appearance she’d expected him to be flabby. The balding head and sloppy clothes didn’t match the strength in his arms or the fluid moves she’d just witnessed. And something else. He had a gun. She could feel the holster pressing against her back. Let me go! Jennie tried to scream. All that escaped was a muffled, “Mmmmph.” She tried kicking his shins, but all she hit was air. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, Jennie. I meant that. I just need to talk to you.” Yeah, right. People who aren’t going to hurt you don’t grab you from behind—or try to fry you in a sauna.
