The family sat riveted to the television.“That’s not ... It couldn’t be Caitlin, could it?” Ramie asked. The woman on television had black hai... and Ramie was certain she was smaller busted than her sister. But most striking was that beneath the wolf’s snarling mouth was the face of a woman.“Not unless her nineteenth century body was transferred to this time,” Ashley said. “That’s not my daughter. That’s her spokeswoman.”“This protest village that sprang up over the winter,” reporter Sarah. “Johnson, let go,” he said gruffly. Finally, she did, sighing and looking up at him with disappointment in her eyes. Big, liquid eyes. Hurt. Don’t look at me like that. He turned to the bathroom, scooping up the t-shirt on the way, carefully locking the door behind him. He leaned his back against it and took a few deep, slow breaths. Calm down, he told himself. She wasn’t coming on to you. She’s not that kind of woman. It was Johnson, not Trixie, the faceless hooker he normally sated his. More

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