KIM METHODICALLY WORKED her way across every square inch of her surroundings, pausing only to wipe her forehead on her sleeve as she tried her best to combat the sweltering conditions in the cupola.
December in Texas, she thought ruefully. Sometimes it’s freezing, and sometimes it’s unseasonably hot, and of course I’d just have to be up here on a day it’s hot...
She kept processing during her inner monologue, finally reaching the shutter that overlooked the large grassy area where Ed Baker had died. She managed to pull a partial palm print and two more fingerprints from the wood but was dismayed that opening the shutter to reach more of it did nothing to help her working conditions.
Seriously? Not even a hint of a breeze?
By the time she returned to the second floor almost three hours
