Who is she?

A gust of wind hit her sharply in the face. She fought to keep the papers within her grasp, and stumbled across the parking lot with urgent steps. The wind tugged at her jacket and whipped her hair around her head, blinding her as she struggled toward the beat up white Chevy. Over the roar of the treetops she heard pursuing footsteps slamming on the pavement. She broke into a sprint, not bothering to turn and look. She knew who it was. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she steeled herself to act. The footsteps were coming closer.
She arrived at the vehicle exactly three seconds before her pursuer. Slowing down just enough to keep from slamming into the side, she whipped open the driver’s door, fumbled under the seat for what she knew was there and spun on her heel, aiming the gun expertly at the man who skidded to a halt just in front of her.

I don't know who she is, what papers are so important or who is following her. She obviously does. I wish she'd let me know...