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Scanning the building, Michael found a small door, matching the plain tan color of the building walls. Scrawled out in what looked like a black Sharpie magic marker were the numbers: 2592.He checked the door handle to find it unlocked. Opening the door, he was greeted by a middle aged man dressed in black with matching fedora. Wrapped around his waist, over his black "stage-crew" t- shirt was a small rope weave design. They were in the right place after all!Michael breathed a sigh of relief. There's no reason we can't be civilized about this. You ladies talk amongst yourselves and I'll be right back."Then she walked into the kitchen.It was an open doorway, so Buffy could hear them. They obviously knew that because there was a lot of hushed whispering that went on in the living room as they tried to sort out where their plan had gone all wrong. Buffy let them stew about it while she brought water to boil and got six cups and some tea bags ready on a platter. All she had was Hydrox. "Close the door and sit down," growled Harry. He raked through the papers on his desk."What's up Cap?" asked Chris as he and Rita settled themselves in the two chairs before the over-burdened desk.Harry found what he had been looking for. He looked at the papers he picked up, then peered over the top of his glasses at the duo."You recently arrested a bunco artist going by the name of Roland Shelby, real name Edward Green."Yeah," nodded Chris."A real piece of work," Rita added. "He was running a. I let her have her say, to unburden herself. She knew she was going to die, although I didn't. When she was done, I told her I forgave her but would never forget. She smiled but when I mentioned that I would also never forget that we'd never have the three children we'd planned on, never have that family with the picnics, campouts and trips we'd planned, she lost it. When she ran crying from the café, it was the second from last time I'd ever see her alive.I'd been introduced to a beautiful.
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