As she parked near her building, Gina saw a man’s form swaying in the shadows. It was the same guy. She was sure of it.
The book said to call it in. Gina liked the book, but not for this. Instead, she drew her nine-millimeter.
In a second, she was out of the car. Air-conditioners hummed. Crickets sang. Gina stepped forward, the automatic by her thigh.
“Pretty stupid, stalking a cop.”
“Stalking?” The voice was soft, almost feminine.
“Yeah, stalking. What would you call it?”
The shadow lunged.
Gina crouched and fired three rounds into a potted shrub.