They were profiling him, just like the cops did, assuming he was a problem of some kind.He was used to that, too. He got suspicious looks when he went...into stores, or even just walked down the street. He'd learned to armor himself against that kind of thing. There were a few chinks in his armor, though he wasn't aware of them on a conscious level. His wife's death, for instance, was a chink in his armor. She'd taken a stray bullet in a drive by shooting. One second she was yelling at him for. The majority of the snow was melted by noon and I decided to go exploring.Claire's backyard ended at the trees and there was a little dirt track that led through to a small clearing a little ways in. I grabbed a picnic blanket, a regular blanket, a book and a bottle of juice and headed out, my cell phone turned to vibrate just incase.The woods were comforting and smelled of clean air with the slightly musty odor of decomposing leaves rising up from under my feet.The clearing was just as I. The bench was low, and I foughtwith my skirt. I sat down like I always did, but that doesn't work in along skirt. It stretched around my knees and caused me to plop downwith a minimum of elegance.That didn't matter to Mark, he pressed cards into my hand. I mutteredto myself about the long skirt, but for that matter I was happy that itwasn't short. From his low level he would have seen me and perhapsdiscovered things, which were not suitable for his young brain.Mark 'explained' the rules of play. Here's one for a seminar in Bermuda. Maybe I shouldn't delete that one." He glanced up at Floyd."Hah! I get it." Floyd gave himself a mock slap on the forehead. "Can't say as I blame you. You've had a lot of pressure lately." A little more than my fair share," Frank agreed."Miss Jeannette had me make out six security passes on Friday night. Who're they for?" Floyd asked."FBI agents," Frank answered. "They'll be here at about ten."Floyd whistled. "FBI? What for?" They're going to investigate the.