That much Tessa knew for certain.Īdrenaline spiking, she showed them her press card and handed them each a business card. Tessa swallowed, willed herself not to show fear. They stopped a few feet away from her, glared down at her. Her heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches. It was too dark for her to see their colors, but she had no doubt they were gang members. She turned-and found a dozen young men headed straight for her.
Then she heard voices approaching from behind.
She'd stopped to document the graffiti down a side alley when that strange prickling ran down her neck again. She'd crossed into a part of town claimed by both Crips and Bloods. She needed to hop on the bus and catch a ride back to her car, but she'd realized a block or two back that she wasn't seeing only Crips graffiti now. She continued on her way, crossing the intersection at Sable, aware it was almost dark. What they didn't see was the sense of community, the loyalty, the flower beds, the hardworking parents trying to give their kids a better life. People passing through from wealthier parts of the city saw the graffiti, the poverty, the decay- and they felt afraid. Like everyone else, they were just trying to make it through another day. But she also knew most of the people living here weren't dangerous. She knew there was violence on these streets she'd written news articles about it. More than once she'd felt a strange prickling on her neck and had gotten the feeling she was being followed. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. "Short conversation," Tessa murmured to herself, inwardly grateful they hadn't seemed to have heard of the two. The boy who'd spoken to her shrugged, and the kids walked off. And what are you going to do if they are the killers, girl?
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