“He’s now in Room 215.”“Thank you, I remember where it is.”“Visiting hours are over at eleven P-M for spouses. Good day to you.”“Thank...you.” I walked toward the double doors, stopped for a moment to apply the sticker to my jacket lapel, and continued through the doors. As I walked, my mind went back over the events of the prior six months.Thomas and I had gone to meet my FBI agent friend and my father at a rural Kansas airport. I saw my friend approaching with several colleagues, when Thomas. “Show Anita your hands,” Stacy said, pointing. “Go ahead, hold them up.”“Aw, no! Not my hands,” Brianna said, folding them against her breasts fearfully. “Why my hands?”“Nothing hands. Just hold them up, show them to Anita,” said Stacy, who by now had found her way to the edge of the shady grove. She swung up into the lower branches of one tree like a monkey and suddenly was reclining on a remarkable, living piece of furniture not unlike a hammock.Brianna shyly extended them out for Anita to. More

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