Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles.
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