’ Realizing his comments had hit a personal nerve, Frank continued. ‘Janet, for years I was too busy. I wrote checks, but just couldn’t find the...time to be there. I meant no offense with my rant regarding the state of volunteerism in this country.’ Janet placed her hand over Frank’s hand, not in a romantic gesture, but in an understanding one. ‘Frank you just hit me right where I live. And you’re right on target. I’d love to help. What do I need to do to sign up?’ Frank removed a business card. What was her name? She drove a motorcycle.His study was at the back of the house. The lights couldn't be seen from the front. He hurried over and hit the switch, dousing the room in darkness except for the light coming in the window from the backyard light.He heard the sound of footsteps close to the front door and glanced out his study door, staying well back in the shadows. It was her, the cop with the motorcycle, and the FBI agent. Did they know? Why else would they be here at this time of. More

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