She put on her pretty lavender dress and her expensive spiffed-up shoes. She was no Clarice Starling. She looked up at the windows which notably shouted that there are haves and have-nots. She was in-between. The lambs have stopped screaming but occasionally they let out a whimper to remind her of those days of poverty, lonely yore.
She took a deep breath.
She climbed the stairs fighting back her need to look at her phone. There was no one there anyway, why look?
She knocked on the door and gripped her gun. Justice. A love of justice.