Constance Griffin looked around, over her left shoulder. Yes, he was still there. The blond young man with the close-cropped hair and blank expression had been behind her for the last 10 minutes. He had to be a dev. Why else would someone be stalking her?
The statuesque woman took one more step with her forearm crutches, and turned on her left foot. The suddenness of the move caused her full skirt to flare, almost like an ice-skater performing a spin. The young man started in spite of himself. When the skirt had raised he had seen just a flash of the stump of her right leg under it.