"Let's meet at my place in thirty minutes," Albert had said. And at that time, it seemed like a good idea. She didn't want to arouse any suspicion by declining his request, especially since by now news of the shot-out earlier had hit town.
A good girlfriend would be supportive in a time like this, she told herself. But deep down, that nagging feeling that he knew what she'd done and she was walking into a trap, was there. He did say, after all, that he had agents spying on Camille. They must have sported her at the scene too. It also didn't help that the wound in her forearm had opened again. It was only a graze but it was hurting like hell, and now, bleeding so much.
