Now, wherever she went, she was aware of signs and whispers of recognition. Dana Evans was embarrassed by her celebrity. Hurrying down Pennsylvania Avenue, passing the White House, Dana looked at her watch and thought, I'm going to be late for the meeting. The Washington Tribune Network television studios occupied the sixth floor of building four. The place was always charged with energy, its cubicles humming with people at work on their computers.
Wire copy from half a dozen news services constantly spewed out updated news from around the globe.
The immensity of the operation never ceased to amaze and excite Dana. It was there that Dana had met Jeff Connors. He was in his thirties, tall and lean, with boyish looks and an easy, laid-back charm that attracted people to him. Jeff and Dana had fallen in love, and they had talked about marriage. In the three months since Dana had returned from Sarajevo, events in Washington had moved swiftly.