There were a million gold cars on the road, and this one was a frequently seen model. It was just her imagination working overtime, although you’d think it would have been worn-out by now, with all the imagining she’d been doing about Brett Dunbar. She had herself convinced until the car, some distance back, took the same exit. But she tamped down the feeling again. They weren’t being followed; it was simply that this was the way to the county offices and lots of people went there every day. And when she made the turn to go to those offices, the gold car slid past without even slowing, proving she’d been being silly. That sense of foolishness vanished soon after they went inside. She didn’t like the man running this place. He wasn’t bad looking, although his hair looked a bit determinedly blond, and if he was any taller than her own five foot six, she’d be surprised. But he had the same sort of arrogance that so many of those she’d encountered back in DC had.
