CHAPTER THREE
Her high heels almost tripped Carly up when she got out of her car in a Washington, D.C., parking garage. She stopped for a moment and steadied herself.
You can’t have forgotten how to do every ordinary thing, she thought anxiously.
It seemed a long time since she’d worn anything but sturdy flats and slacks, which were certainly best for checking out crime scenes or running down suspects. But today she’d put on a long-sleeved blue dress that draped nicely around her lean body and was short enough to show off her legs. Since she was going directly from the parking garage into the Kingman Hotel where Mark Lawson’s convention was being held, she didn’t even need a jacket.
Walking more gracefully now, Carly made her way to the hotel restaurant, where she was a bit alarmed to
