The dig was being funded by the Frost Archaeological Foundation, the very foundation she worked for, and she had been almost giddy with excitement when she submitted her name for consideration for the team being chosen to work on the Ouosalla site. She had never wanted anything as much as she wanted to help excavate the buried ancient village that had only recently been discovered on the African coast of the Red Sea. She had paid her dues, earned the fight to work on the Ouosalla dig in east Africa it was the biggest new archaeological find in decades, and her mouth literally watered at the thought of being involved. She had a good view of the city, and normally she loved it, both the pastels of daytime and the glowing neons of night, but she was too angry right then to even see it. She stood rigidly still in the late spring heat of Los Angeles, her hands braced on the rim of the waist-high concrete wall. Her anger was so overwhelming that she felt as if she had to be outside so it could expand. She slung her canvas bag onto the foyer table and stalked straight through the living room to the balcony. It was less than two years old, and she usually felt a surge of pleasure and achievement on stepping over the threshold, for the condo wasn't only great looking, it was hers, but today wasn't a usual day and she didn't even notice the cool, soothing interior. Jillian Sherwood was tight-lipped with anger as she let herself into her condo.
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