Excerpt

With their guns at the ready and each deputy marshal spanning his/her one hundred and eighty degree arc of responsibility, Devlin and Hawkins cleared the roof, hurried to the edge, and peered over the side. She scanned the adjacent roof and spotted a door closing the last few inches. Pointing with her chin at the door, “He jumped,” she holstered her 1911 and backed away.

Hawkins glanced at the narrow alley three stories below. “All teams, the suspect’s jumped to the structure to the immediate east. Cover both exits. Make sure he doesn’t get out of that building.” He turned around and saw his partner removing her vest. “What are you doing?”

“This thing’s too restrictive. It’ll also,” she tossed the garment at him, “weigh me down.”

“I—” approaching her, he caught the clothing, “that’s not what I meant. You,” he shot a look at the other roof and came back to her, “you can’t do this, Jess. It’s too far.”

Hiking up her skirt for more freedom of movement, Devlin filled her lungs and exhaled. “Sure I can. I’ve got,” she bobbed her head downward while lifting one boot, “long legs. And we’re one story higher.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I won’t let you do it. This is crazy.”

“Crazier than letting a child molester get away?” Squinting, she found a landing place and lowered her center of gravity. “Meet me downstairs.” Devlin took off running.

Hawkins lunged for her, “Jessica,” but she was beyond his reach.

Three strides from the metal lip, she felt her heart beating faster. A dozen years ago, she had competed in the long jump in high school; however, she had done so in tennis shoes and shorts, not high-heeled boots and fishnets. She planted the sole of her left boot on the metal lip. Tennis shoes, boots… she pushed off, it can’t be that much different.

Flying through the air, Devlin discovered one difference—traction. Her plant foot had slipped upon takeoff.