It was far chillier than Miami, but the lack of humidity was a blessing. Jackson landed at a two-bit airstrip near the Marquette city limits and Hermann—the retainer had landed just two hours earlier—was there with the dossier, which was usual for any sort of hunt.
Jack settled against the back seat of the limousine, grateful to be out of a f*****g prop plane, and as he opened the manila folder a shock went through him, toes to scalp.
The glossy 8x10 black-and-white was a telephoto shot, but you needed that if your target was wary. Faintly blurred, it was still more than enough. Whoever was behind the lens had captured her midstride, a girl glancing aside before crossing a street. Very dark hair pulled back, a few wavy strands escaping to frame her face, her thin shoulders up and full li
