The movement began to wake her up, and she saw him there as she opened her eyes.“Where am I?” she asked, sitting up.“You're safe, here, with me....�� he smiled, squatting next to her, then helping her stand up.She looked at him. He was about thirty, she guessed. Dark haired, with more than a hint of beard growth, but only his goatee; not his neck or cheeks. He was taller than her, probably six feet to her own five and a half. Medium build; not quite two hundred pounds, she guessed, but she didn't. Dreary classical music whispered over the radio set and Frankie remained slumped, only looking down or through the window. When he asked about Dante again, still no response was offered, so he played along and allowed the silence to hang. After they parked and entered the house, only when the door closed did Frankie speak again.“Hey, Bill,” she said meekly, “Um, can we talk for a bit?”“Sure, kid.” Bill sat on his couch and she plopped next to him with folded arms.“So um,” she started, “Dante. More

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