CHAPTER THREE
They rounded a corner and found themselves standing at the entrance to a small chamber perhaps twenty feet deep by twelve feet wide. The room was lit by a pair of halogen lamps set up in opposite corners, the light glinting off the golden skins of four bodies spaced equidistantly around the room.
The sight was surreal to Harley. It looked very much like a museum exhibit.
At the far end of the chamber, an African American woman with a bob haircut that revealed an understated earring on one ear, was frowning down at a pad of paper. The quick, lateral movements of the pencil suggested she was sketching.
“That’s far enough,” she said without looking up. “I’m still documenting the scene.”
The trio stopped where they were.
“I’ve got good news for you, Angelina,” Bullock said.
