.. do you know a Karen Post?” she asked.“I do,” I responded. “What about her?”“She’s trying to find you,” she said. “Do you want to ...e found?”“I am always at home to Karen,” I said. “Of course I want to be found. Why?”I could hear rustling of paper, “She called Pan Am and I took her call. I had to be sure you wanted to talk to her.”“I do.”“307-672-8828.” Rachael said.“That’s home,” I said.“She sounded anxious,” Rachael said.“Probably needs money,” I said. “She wouldn’t have called. David Brandon shut the door behind him and heaved a weary sigh. Saturday mornings were always his favorite at the clinic but as of late, they’d turned into a long day of work. He missed the lightness of Saturday work, the lunches and the laughter. Now his only company was a cranky radiator and stacks of patient charts and narratives to check over and approve. He went through to his office, fired up the Dell and grabbed the first file folder, making notations as he went. When the doorbell rang. More

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