Chloe was still feeling distressed and upset. A black claw of depression hovered over her shoulder, a visceral fear that she was to be dragged back to prison to complete the rest of her sentence. It was irrational, she told herself, but even the most innocent of nuns would feel guilty when questioned by police, never mind an ex-con with record for GBH when murders are being investigated.
To take her mind of things, Chloe decided to treat herself another tattoo. A proper professional tattoo, not like the amateur, crude prison tats she had. Her name, CHLOE, was on her right arm and a butterfly which looked like a dead fly on the other . She would get that one removed by a laser but would keep the other, just as a reminder of her time in jail. Not that she needed one.
Chloe picked up her w
