Abruptly the elevator jolted to a stop. “Goddammit.” Giuliani reached for a weapon. “No one’s supposed to use this car.”
The doors slid open, and he made an abortive move to prevent the man and woman who stood there from entering the elevator.
The woman stared at him, and he swallowed and stepped back. I noticed that Babineaux stood behind him, not afraid precisely, but…cautious.
My interest was piqued.
The woman was petite, not more than five feet tall. Her blonde hair was pulled back so tightly I wanted to wince in sympathy, and thick-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, seeming too heavy for it. She wore a black outfit that did nothing for her. The skirt hung below her knees, the jacket appeared at least two sizes too large, and the white blouse beneath it leached what
