The whispery crunch of snow under heavy boots touched her ears and she glanced to her left. It was the man with the watch. Big man, much bigger than h...r. Had money, too, her eyes caught the heavy fall of the overcoat and the glint of gold on a heavy signet ring. Not the type who would be waiting for a bus. Not the type who would even notice her, with the threadbare coat, shoes held together by string, filthy hair tangled up around the nape of her neck and the odor of stale gin rising from her. .. She saw him and waved. Mark smiled back, responsively easing the Sheriff's car to the curb and stopping, making no motions toward her, yet she swerved from the sidewalk to come and talk with him."Hi, Mark... I-I mean Mr. Blakely... going toward school?" she greeted and asked in one breath, her young white teeth glistening with her smile."Y-Yes... as a matter of fact, I am," he stammered, her accidental use of his first name surprising him. In the past, it had always been Mr. Blakely. "Come. More

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