Fleeing beauty

Have you ever seen something that is so exquisite, it takes your breath away? Or leaves you feeling inadequate as you struggle to find the right words to describe it?

That's what happens in this scene from Fleeing Beauty, book three in the Jamie Richmond series.

This sculpture was titled “Fleeing Beauty”.

It was a woman caught in the act of running. Tendrils of slender marble in various lengths and thicknesses extended from her head, as if they were locks of hair billowing out behind her. Part of her face was obscured, turned against her shoulder as if attempting to hide her features from whoever was chasing her. The woman’s body was voluptuous, full of dangerous curves. There was something haunting about this piece. The guys became quiet, which was unusual. Linda slowly moved around it, taking pictures.

“Holy shit,” Ian muttered.

“Watch your language,” Malone said, cuffing him lightly on the back on the head.

“How did he do that?” Ian said, taking a step away. “She looks real.”

“She looks alive,” Malone said.

“Check the file,” I suggested.

None of us could take our eyes off the sculpture.

We spread the file out on the worktable. There were pictures of a woman standing in front of a drop cloth. She was blonde, with an impish smile on her face. She could have been in her early to middle twenties. It was impossible to tell how tall she was. Her figure was eye-catching, with a tiny waist and round hips. Most of the pictures showed her in a one-piece bathing suit. There was one where she wore a sheer negligee. There were shots of her standing on a pedestal, others with her arms outstretched, and still others where she was looking over her shoulder. In a couple of photos he must have used a fan to blow her hair back.

“She’s a doll,” Ian said.

 “Jamie, I think this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Linda said softly.

“You’ll get no argument from me.”