SeventeenEarlier Marilyn had taken off the neck-brace and now, a little self-consciously, she walked down the corridor on the fifth floor, trying to ignore the questioning gazes of the colleagues she met. They were all making the same, unspoken criticisms – how could she, an experienced police officer, have allowed herself to be attacked by a slip of girl? That was a serious lapse of judgment, and now the Chief Super wanted to talk to her. A stickler for procedure, he was bound to give her a hard time, lecture her about the importance of training, professionalism, awareness. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stepped into her superior's outer-office and nodded towards Catherine, the secretary, who screwed up the corner of her mouth. “You look dreadful, Marilyn.”
“I feel it. What sort o
