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energy, control her anger, use it as a positive fighting force, was gone. It died when Anthony did. Even pounding through a five mile speed run after she left the police station hadn’t helped. She needed a place where she could bury her anger in the unrelenting weight of the bag and slam the blocks. Where the warrior shrieks and screams of fellow fighters might help to calm her surging soul.
    She made it through five of the rigorous poses before she gave in to her need to begin her mission. Heading to the shower, she tried to ignore the dirty carpet and threadbare bedspread and towels. She wondered if she should drag every piece of linen to a laundromat and dump in a bottle of bleach. She chided herself. Like she hadn’t been in shit holes before. Damn, she’d spent most of her early life in one or another. They’d been her natural habitat for years. She realized now that the aberration, the lack of reality, were the years she’d spent with Master Wan and Madam Juen. What a fool she had been. She’d begun to think that good could overcome evil. That if you worked hard enough, practiced long enough, life could be somewhat safe. That maybe there was a God. What a fucking lie. What a massive joke the universe had played on her. And she had gone along with it. She’d even thought she could protect the Jill’s of the world. Fuck that! She couldn’t even protect the person she loved more than anything in the world.
    Ignoring the chipped tile and disgusting mildewed grout circling the battered tub, she turned the water on full force. Knowing in crap joints like this that the hot water wouldn’t last long, she damn well intended to get every drop. Five minutes later, she began to relax. The scorching water was still beating a skin reddening pattern on her back and she’d rinsed her hair three times. Fortunately, she’d been smart enough to pack the soaps and lotions and oils her body craved. For a few precious moments, she ignored the ragged background and reveled in the smell of lavender, citrus, and lemon grass.
    But the steaming water didn’t drown out her memories of the last two days. Master Wan had begged her to wait, to let the police do their jobs. She didn’t deign to answer him. Leaving the devastated old people without a backward glance, she’d hit the road driving from San Francisco to Yuma in less than ten hours.
    She’d been amazed at how easily that she had commandeered the investigative team supposedly working on Anthony’s case. She’d left Chief Burton a message the night before telling him that she wanted to meet with the team charged with finding her brother’s killer. Damned if they didn’t all show up. Of course, the red suit helped. She’d used it before and it always worked. God, men were so predictable. But once they’d finished ogling her breasts and her butt and realized that she was a hard ass, not a cream puff, they began to take her seriously.
    She had to admit, the real turning point was when Jake--she corrected herself--when Special Agent Gardner, showed up. That was when the chief began to come around. She’d know tomorrow when she went to get her materials if he was going to cooperate. She grimaced. It was a good thing she didn’t care if the police were forthcoming or not. As before, she’d depend on one person and one person only--herself. Anything else was an unexpected bonus.
    No question, she thought with a disdainful sniff, she could contain the police and brow beat them with guilt. More dangerous to her mission was the blue eyed, dark haired hunk. And, God, he was a hunk. He had to be 6’ 4”. In her three inch high heels, she stood five nine and he’d towered over her. Hovered would be a better description. She tried to squash the memory of him standing next to her, his kind eyes, gentle solicitous touch when she stumbled. And, damn, a grandmother called Winnie Mae. She shook her head with a grin, but quickly sobered. She knew the system better than anyone. The