Go to Personnel.'"Ms. Jones eyes got large. "Wow. Helen said five words. Who the hell are you?"I was confused. "I'm just a waitress." I had served him...lunch. He and the photographer, Justin, were discussing pictures. Mr. Richards asked me if I wanted to see one. Then he handed me the card and told me to call Helen in the morning. As I thought back to the picture, the redness started to cover my face again.Ms. Jones was staring at me, but also nodding. I wished I knew what was now making sense,. There were tall, mature beech trees on either side of the track, with tangles of ivy on those most shaded. Clouds had covered the sun, and a premature dusk was falling. The canopy of summer-heavy trees made it darker still. It was a little spooky, and I shivered. Ahead, through the trees I saw the walls of small Victorian gothic yellowy-grey brick house protected by a high picket fence, nestled in a bare-earthed clearing. A wooden sign nailed roughly to a tree by the track enigmatically read. More

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