Odd, she thought. You can't just park in the street like that. And thinking this, she began to turn. Which was, as it happened, not the worst of her mistakes.
Bright lights blazed on. She was instantly blinded. Blinded, she froze as the hunted often do.
An engine roared and tyres wailed against the roadway.
When she was hit, her body flew up, her arms flung wide, and her picture frame shot up like a rocket into the cold night air.
Excerpted from A Traitor to Memory by Elizabeth George Copyright 2001 by Elizabeth George. Excerpted by permission of Bantam, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
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