But Sharma had learned a little bit from his incarceration, and he had brought a couple of friends with him for back up, just in case he needed it.Sha...ma and his two thug friends waited patiently, smoking and whispering to each other from time to time. It was very cold in the garage, it being late February. The garage was fairly quiet, the traffic sounds from outside penetrating weakly through the walls. No danger they would be heard, that's for sure. Suddenly a door slammed, and Sharma. In that way she was just like me, but I could have been wrong. I didn't know anything.The gates were closed and the morning paper was still wedged in the curling wrought iron, my dad hadn't gone to work. I didn't think he would. He'd be waiting by the phone in case I called, or one of my friends called, or ... No, he wouldn't even want to think about the other things, the other phone calls a daddy could get when his little girl was missing. I punched the code and grabbed the paper, not. To my great relief, the visit had nothing to do with my being placed in their care but concerned a disturbance in which a prisoner had stabbed one of the guards. Standing respectfully at the back of the room, I half-heartedly listened but I learned the guard was still in the hospital wing and the prisoner had immediately been executed. No court hearing or trial.While I waited I wondered if I would get to see my family and friends and I debated whether or not I could ask to see them but I didn’t. "Hello, Elegance by Sophie, Sophie speaking," I said in a sing songvoice. Where did that come from?"Hi, my name's Jason" said a sophisticated sounding voice, soundedaround late thirties, early forties. He continued "I'm the eventsmanager with the local council. I work with your friend, Becca Nixon"Hmm, not `I'm Becca's boss' but 'I work with'. He must have a bit ofrespect for her."What can I do for you Jason?" I asked."As you probably know, this weekend is the beginning of the SpringCarnival in.