Haley looked at the chaos outside through the open doorway. It was a sea of flashing lights, wandering people, and stopped cars. The police were trying to impose some kind of order, but they could barely get themselves organized. Protestors carrying signs added unneeded spice to the mix. Darrow sat on the stretcher across from Haley. "I noticed you were talking to an unusual Secret Service agent. An older black woman. I've never seen her before. You had a nice, little conversation." "Miss Pickenpaugh," Haley said. The color drained from Darrow's face. "My God. What was she doing here?" "Saving
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