Riptide -- Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I peered through the peephole until the reporter and her sidekick left. Moving to the front window, I watched the two heading for an unmarked van that gave no clue who they worked for. Awesome. The man stowed his camera in the back, as the woman—well-coifed reddish-brown hair, late twenties, medium build—slid into the passenger seat, clutching her notepad and pen.