Fingerprints

Back at Sean’s office, Jen paced as the detective dusted the shot glass. At the moment, helplessness reigned in her soul. Action, any kind, would be better than doing nothing. “How about I pick up the photos from last night and show them to Carolyn Holmes.”

Sean stopped, his brush poised over the glass emblazoned with the hotel bar’s logo. His fierce gaze swung her way like a search light. “Are you nuts?”

She blinked. “No, bored. Antsy.” She crossed and sat by him. “I can’t be a sitting duck. I need to help. I need to be doing something.”

“No.” He went back to his dusting as if the subject were closed.

Jen’s temper rose and overtook her like a wave. She didn’t want to be protected. She didn’t like being protected. “You cannot forbid me to go somewhere. Besides, the photo place is two doors down. What can happen in broad daylight?”

“No. I can’t take you.”