“Is your name Lena Peters?” the detective asked.
“It is.”
“I want to talk with you.”
Carter pushed his way into the room without ceremony, and closed the door.
The woman’s face became flushed with anger. She stepped back from the detective, and her eyes flashed.
“What do you want?” she demanded, with a string of oaths, and she pulled out of her pocket a small pistol.
“Don’t get excited,” Carter quietly said, with a scornful smile. “Put up your pistol, Lena. I’m not going to harm you.”
“Who are you?”
“I will tell you in a few moments.”
“You are a stranger to me.”