Roxanne Walker, twenty years old, black hair, blue eyes, 5'4" from a small Midwest city. An average American girl.
Expect one thing.
She was an infamous murder called the Angel of Death or Death Angel. Started with her own father at the age of sixteen. Went from there. Learned quickly to cover her tracks. Extremely smart.
Twenty-four year old detective, L, sat in his weird way in the chair looking over the old file. He had caught Roxanne, putting her in jail. His black messy hair hanged in his chocolate eyes that had dark shadows under them. He was slim and dressed in his normal long sleeve shirt and jeans. A pile of sweets next to him.
He was in Japan working on the Kira case. He glanced at the officers asleep on the floor. They wouldn't like it, and he hated to admit it but Roxanne might be their best bet in catching this Kira.
~In a prison cell in America~
Locked in an isolated cell in a prison in America a young woman sat against the wall on the floor. One leg stretched out, the other bent. Her right arm laying on the bent knee. A slight smile on her lips. Her long black hair a messy around her. Her blue eyes cold, uncaring.
She was dressed in the orange prison jumper, the arms and upper half was tied around her slim waist showing off a white tank top.
Her only window to the outside world was the small bared window on her cell door. The guards refused to look at her.
But she knew she would leave.
And it would be soon.
