First thing in the morning. This is so..." Bianca's voice tailed off as the house came into view."This is so what?" I asked.She didn't respond."Bianca... What's wrong?" Is there something different?" she asked, pointing at our house.Easing the car to a stop I studied the home. It looked fine to me. "What do you see, Bianca?" Nothing. But ... It's just ... Never mind."A tickle of apprehension spider-walked up my spine.We left the car parked on the drive. I opened the front door and followed Bianca. “Well…” Mark starts but stops. Katie's eyes flash wide. “Dad tell me.” “Well, it’s unrealistic to go back and think about how it could have been different. It’s not good to dwell on things you’d like to add to the memory. You just have accept the fun it was and instead of imaging it differently. It’s best to image how you can have it different the next time.” Mark kicks himself for have said that last part. Katie nods, but can’t let the question go unanswered. “Dad tell me anyhow. Tell me. ......"Good evening, sir, having a nice time this evening??" she trilled, in a melodious, yet husky voice that made my penis twitch in my underwear............"Yes, my dear, I am great!!" I replied, looking directly into her eyes and smiling, mischievously, sending a telepathic message...............she had been looking at me since I entered, even while she was serving other customers before coming over to me.............the die had already been cast, the hunt had been on from the minute she. " Who do you blame for your parents deaths?" Lots of different people. It appears to change by the hour. Currently Iblame the people who switched on their mobile phones. Sometimes it isthe designers of the building, other times God or even sometimes MrWilson." Who is Mr Wilson?" He is Kirsty's foster father. Actually she was adopted about a yearago; she had been fostered by them for about three years prior to that.He got a new job else where in the country and were moving. Mr and MrsWilson were.