<span style="color: #FF80FF"> <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: center;">Lea Stevens</div></span></span> </span><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn24/SociallyToxicBeauty/036e0d3a-b28c-47ec-b858-0eaea6c67e4d.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FF80FF"><div style="text-align: center;">"Jazz"</div></span></span></span><br/><br/>Lea calmed down greatly the moment she was tucked into Carlos’ side. “He wasn’t following you…” Lea gave a sigh of relief at that, but tensed up again at Carlos’ next words, “…That was no accident, he wanted to know if you recognized him…”<br/><br/>Carlos began to guide Lea towards the gun department, but she remained thoughtfully quiet, still trying to place the man’s face.<span style="font-style: italic"> “…he is no informant…and I have seen him too…I shot pictures of him….I am 99% sure he is our guy…” </span>Carlos’ words seemed to drift over Lea, but she was listening. She was always listening.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> “All we have are gut feelings and gut feelings don’t get anything done at the precinct. We need to catch him doing something—anything, even if it is a parking ticket overdue, just so that we’ll have his face and name in the books…”</span>Lea said as she resisted the urge to rub her face.<span style="color: #FF80FF">  “Maybe it is time for us to follow him…?”</span>she suggested. She knew that they couldn’t do so immediately. He would be paranoid at the moment, they’d have to wait until they had a chance to see him again before they followed him. Not only that, but Carlos would have to look around the precinct to see if he could match the man’s face to anything or anyone there. He would have to do that alone, though, as Lea was unwilling to go by the precinct just yet.<br/><br/>It didn’t take them long to reach the counter, and Carlos stated their business.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Well, yer gonna hafta go to a specialty shop fer that. We only sell huntin’ guns. There’s a store down some ways on this road back here,”</span></span>he gestured towards the front of the store, his thumb pointing upwards toward the right.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"> “It’s about two or three miles. Ya can hardly miss it. I think it’s called ‘Rangers’ or somethin’ another. Anyhow, ya gonna hafta bring in yer gun permit to them. They don’t sell ta juss’ anybody.”</span></span>Lea had figured as much, but it hadn’t hurt to stop by while they were there to see if they could get a gun. She had her permit with her at all times anyway, so it wasn’t a hassle.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> “Thank you for your help,”</span>Lea said and the guy gave a half nod,<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold"> “No problem.” </span></span><br/><br/>Lea grabbed Carlos’ hand and pulled him towards check out. It was a fairly quick process and they were soon back outside. They both took a moment to scan the area for ‘Ray’ but saw no sign of him. Once they felt safe, they walked to the car and got in after they put their items in the trunk.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> “This day has been more productive than we planned, huh?” </span>she said quietly, turning some to look at Carlos.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> “I could feel his hate. It was suffocating. How does a person manage to send off such vibes?” </span>it was clear her question was more rhetorical than anything, but still she was looking at Carlos.