“What kind of game?” he asked. “We’ve got checkers, or I could teach you backgammon.” “No, not that kind of game,” she said, giggling. �...�Then what?” “Close your eyes,” she said. “Why?” “It’s a guessing game.” He smiled but he was confused. “What kind of guessing game?” “You close your eyes, then I let you smell something,” she said. “If you can guess what it is, then you can have it.” He made a face. “You’re not going to make me smell your feet are you?” he asked. She laughed. Her laugh was a. Around 11, I had the thought they might have made up and checked into a motel on highway 161 to spend the day screwing themselves silly. I puttered around the house cleaning all the pictures and knick-knacks that reminded me of Sarah and putting them in black garbage bags.I was resting with a beer on the porch, when an Illinois State Police car pulled in the driveway, and two troopers got out and walked up to the steps.The biggest one with the Sgt. chevrons said. “Sir, are you Mr. Donald. More

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