The Poker Game

A man comes seeking shelter from a blizzard. Nine-year-old Mina was taught never to open the door to strangers...

 

 

Sturdy little hands opened the recipe book. Mina had another month to go before she turned nine, but her mom had to work late tonight, like a lot of nights lately. That meant supper would be Mina’s job. She didn’t mind. She liked cooking.

 

She just wished she could make something good. She wanted to cook like the chefs on TV, making things like veal with scallions or four cheese ravioli. But the stuff in the TV kitchen was not the stuff in the fridge. "Tonight I will show you how to bake chicken thighs, boil potatoes, and-and do something really great with carrots," she announced to an imaginary camera.

Mina dug a small packet of taco seasoning out of the cupboard. Maybe that would taste good on the chicken. One chef had put maple syrup on baby carrots. But she wasn’t sure. Their maple syrup tasted pretty bad on pancakes. It would taste worse on carrots. She looked at the bag of carrots again, then put it back in the fridge. She didn't like carrots anyway.

 

Looking out the window, she could see the snow blowing sideways in the dimming light. It had started this afternoon, while Mina had walked home from school, just barely a flurry, not even sticking to the roads. It seemed to look more determined now.

 

Her homework waited on the table. She would do it after the chicken went into the oven. She wished she could just go watch TV, but Ms. Stallings loomed up in her imagination with her glasses on a chain around her neck. She would peer at your homework through them, and if she didn’t like it, she would look at you over them and call your name in front of the entire class. She’d sent a note home today to complain about her homework. “Slapdash effort, sloppy handwriting, bad spelling. Mina must improve her work.” Her mother would never see that note. Mina decided to improve on her own, before Ms. Stallings demanded a parent-teacher meeting. But what was “slapdash?” Something bad, she thought as she sprinkled the taco seasoning over the chicken.

 

She put the chicken in the oven and looked out the window. The wind blew the snow in big loops and sheets of white, and the road had become invisible. A car parked near their house had become a lump of white.

 

Mina hoped that her mom would get home all right. Right now, it looked like it would be hard to even get the car down the street. Well, probably the snowplows would get to their street before her mom even left work. Mina peeled two potatoes and put them in a pot of water. It would be enough to feed the two of them. She turned on the TV to watch while she did her homework.

 

The news was on and she was about to change the channel, but then the news lady said something strange. “…a snow emergency for the county. Police are saying: If you are in a safe place, stay there. Do not travel unless it is an absolute emergency.”

 

Don’t travel? Stay where you are? How was her Mom going to get home? The phone rang, and she went to answer it. It was her mother. “Honey, have you seen the weather?"

 

"Yeah, it looks awful."

 

"Well, I can’t get home tonight. You’ve got food there, and it’s just one night. You’ll be okay.” But she sounded nervous.

 

“Mom, I don’t want to be all by myself.”

 

“You can do this, Mina. You’re a big girl now.” Her mother’s voice became firm. “I can’t talk any longer. Everybody else needs the phone so they can call home.”

 

Mina slowly set the phone back into its cradle. The kitchen and living room were lit, and the TV still yammered in the living room, but it felt like the rest of the house had just gotten even more dark and quiet.

 

Maybe she should call her dad. He had a big truck, and he could come get her. She dialed his number. She hoped he would be home.

 

When he answered, she forgot about the quiet house. “Daddy, Mom can’t get home. Can you come get me?” Of course he would come get her, and she would stay at his apartment. She could bring the chicken over, and they would eat in front of the TV. Dad had plenty of movies.

 

But he said, “No, sorry, honey, I’m snowed in.”

 

“But, Dad, you’ve got that big truck.”

 

“Sorry. It’s a big truck, but it’s got no traction.”

 

“It’s always okay when you go off-roading.”

 

“That’s mud, honey. Different from snow. Well, I gotta run.” He hung up before she could say anything else.

 

She held the phone a long time. The news still babbled in the background, about accidents all over the place and how much more snow they were going to get. Mina decided she would bring her unicorn downstairs with a pillow and a blanket. She didn’t want to go upstairs at all, but she would get her things as fast as she could and hurry back to the living room. She would sleep here on the couch, with the TV on. The newslady was pretty, and she had a nice smile. It made Mina feel better to watch her, and listen. She wondered how deep the snow would get.

 

And then she heard a knock at the door.

 

She stared at it. The knock came again.

 

Who could it be? Checking to make sure the chain was still on the door, she pried it open and peeked out.

 

A man stood there. He stammered, “I’m sorry, but my car got snowed in. Can I use the phone?” He might be her dad’s age, with brown hair and blue eyes that seemed warm in his face.

 

Her mother had told her never to open the door to strangers. But this man looked normal and anyway, his coat was covered with snow. It was cold outside, and the snow was bad. He might get sick or even die out there. She'd heard about somebody who was out in the cold too long, and the doctor had to chop his fingers off. She finally nodded. “Okay.”

 

She led the way into the kitchen. “There’s the phone.” Maybe it was too late and the doctor had to chop off his fingers anyway. He needed to warm up so it wouldn’t happen. “I’ll fix you some cocoa.”

 

He looked at her in surprise as he dialed. She’d made it a command. Then he spoke into the receiver. “Yeah, I’m near Fourteenth Street, but I got a dead battery and the snow’s shut everything down. Can you get to me? ... Yeah, I was afraid you’d say that.” He looked at the kid, on a chair now, digging around in the cupboard for a mug.

 

By the time he hung up she had put a packet of instant cocoa into a cup. “My mom doesn’t let me let in strangers,” she announced, “but I didn’t want you to die or have your fingers chopped off.”

 

He blinked twice. “I appreciate that. Where are your Mom and Dad?”

 

“Mom’s stuck at work, and Dad doesn’t live here. I fixed dinner for me and Mom, but she won’t be home. So you can have it. If you want it. But it’s the only thing I fixed, so you can’t have anything else. What’s your name?”

 

He seemed to hesitate, like he couldn’t remember. “Anthony Parker.”

 

“I’m Mina Barrow.” She extended her hand, and he shook it. Then she went to the table. “I have to do my homework. You can watch TV, if you want.”

 

He stared at her for a second, then he went to the living room and sat down. She went to the table and looked at her homework again.

 

It felt better to have another person in the house. Anthony didn’t talk, but it didn’t feel so quiet anymore. She remembered how it had been back when her parents were together. Her dad would watch TV while her mom fixed dinner. Now she felt funny, like Dad was back home again and everything was back like it was before.

 

In the living room he watched the news. The regular streets were being ignored; the plows were busy just trying to keep the freeway clear. This was not at all what he planned. But he was indoors at least, and he was glad about that. Now, what about this kid?

 

Something went Ding, and a young voice announced, “Dinner’s ready.” He reported to the kitchen, where Mina was hauling out a pan holding two pieces of baked chicken. They each got a chicken thigh and a potato. It wasn’t the best, but what could you expect from a pint-sized chef?

 

She read over a textbook while they ate in silence. He felt grateful that Mina seemed so utterly incurious about him.

 

Mina looked up from her textbook and finally spoke. “What’s slapdash?” she asked.

 

“Dunno.”

 

She pulled the teacher’s note out of her book and handed it to him. “Why are you giving this to me?” he asked.

 

She explained it like he was a little slow. “My teacher gave me this to give Mom. But I’m not going to. You’ll be gone by the time Mom gets here, so you can read it.”

 

He took it and looked it over. “I think she means you need to write neater and check your spelling.”

 

“How do I check my spelling?”

 

He shrugged. “Dictionary, I guess. You can look up slapdash too.”

 

“I don’t think we have a dictionary.”

 

“Well, you need to get one. Learn to spell. It’ll make your teacher shut up.”

 

“I’m sick of homework.”

 

He seemed to think a minute, then he pulled out a pack of cards. “I don’t suppose you play poker.”

 

“My dad does. I don’t understand it, though.”

 

He dealt them five cards each. “As long as I'm stuck here, you might as well learn five card draw.” He put his cards face up. “Put your cards face up too, so I can show you how this works.” He looked at her cards. “You’ve got a King, two deuces, Five of Hearts, and the Joker.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

He sighed. “I can’t explain this. Just play along until you figure it out. Keep the Joker and the King. Put a Deuce back on the table.” He took one away from her. “Deuce is—uh, garbage, unless you get a Three and a Four. Take another card.”

 

The game fumbled along until Mina started to understand, and he picked up his cards. “Okay. Now hold your cards so I can’t see ‘em. If you get a good hand, don’t let it show on your face. And you have to guess what I got.”

 

She frowned at the cards in her hand. Then she looked back at him. “Where did you learn to play poker?”

 

“My dad taught me when I was a kid.”

 

“Do you have kids?”

 

He frowned. “Yes. I have a son.”

 

“Do you have a daughter?”

 

“No.” He laid a card down.

 

“Are you married? My mom’s single.”

 

He raised one eyebrow slightly. “Pay attention or I’ll win this game.”

 

She bent back down over her cards, looking up at him now and then, trying to guess what he held. He laid down a three. Deuces were garbage, so he must not have any twos. Or fours.

 

He looked up at her suddenly, bright blue eyes searching her own. "Trying to guess what I got?" He grinned. "I don't know why you're bothering. You'd win this one if you only knew what you were holding."

 

 She studied her cards again, wondering what he meant.

 

He wondered what to do. The kid was a huge complication.…and now somebody else was knocking at the door. More complications.

 

Mina looked up in surprise, and Anthony twisted around his chair. She saw something silvery glint under his jacket, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

 

Mina went to answer it. It was Bill Grysinski, her mom’s boyfriend.

 

She hated Bill. At first she had been indifferent to him. After all, her dad had a girlfriend, so why shouldn’t her mom have a boyfriend? But Bill was fat and he ate all their food. He left a mess everywhere he went. He stunk up the bathroom. And he would stare at her when her mom wasn’t looking. She didn’t know why he stared like that, but it made her feel creepy.

 

“How did you get here?” she asked. She hoped he would notice she didn’t say Hello or Hi Bill or How are you. She just wanted him to go away, and if he died or got his fingers chopped off she would be happy.

 

“I drove in my truck.” He stepped past her into the house. “Corinne called and told me to check up on you.”

 

“I’m fine,” she said. “You can go home now.” But he had already stepped into the kitchen. He saw Anthony Parker sitting there. Bill said, “Who are you?”

 

Anthony stood up. “Name's Parker. Got stuck in the snow.” Mina wished her mom would like Anthony instead. He wasn’t fat and stinky and he didn’t stare. But now the look on his face frightened her, and she decided maybe her mom shouldn’t like Anthony after all.

 

Bill sat down at the table. “Mina, fix me some coffee.”

 

Anthony said nothing, and Mina went and got out the coffee can. “It’s almost empty,” she announced.

 

“So?”

 

“My mom needs it to wake up in the morning.”

 

“She won’t be here tomorrow morning. Make me some coffee.”

 

Anthony spoke. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”

 

“I guess so,” said Bill. “I'll be sitting with the kid, so you can leave if you want.”

 

Anthony glared at him. “I didn’t come here to baby-sit. As much as I’d like to leave, my car’s under four feet of the white stuff.”

 

“I can dig it out,” said Bill suddenly.

 

Mina looked at Anthony. She hoped he wouldn’t leave her alone her with Bill. The thought made her skin crawl.

 

Anthony glanced at her for an instant. Then he said, “You could try. But I don’t think you can dig a trail for me all the way back to Buffalo.”

 

“Guess not.” That shut up Bill.

 

“You play poker? We’ll deal you in.”

 

Anthony sat down at Mina’s spot. “Kick out the kid. Let’s play for real.”

 

“I didn’t bring a lot of money.”

 

“Aw, come on. Let’s make it interesting. Mina, get us a couple of beers.”

 

“What about the coffee?” she asked.

 

“I’ve changed my mind. Pour out the coffee and get us a couple of beers.”

 

Anthony said nothing. He didn’t seem like he even cared.

 

She went to her room and worked on her math. She hated math, not as much as she hated English, but she wished she just had science. They were on Diseases right now, and every time she read about a new one, Bill got sick with it. So far Bill had caught influenza, measles, smallpox, and Ebola. The Ebola had killed him horribly, and Mina replayed the scene every night. Sometimes she would throw in smallpox to make it worse. She wondered if there was any disease worse than Ebola.

 

Down in the kitchen the men were playing Texas Hold‘em, and Grysinski had started his fourth beer. Parker saw that the guy wasn’t too shabby as a poker player, whatever his other faults might be.

 

Everything was going wrong tonight. First the weather, then the kid, and now this tub of lard.

 

“Hit me,” said Grysinski. He said it loudly, and he looked very cheerful.

 

“Have another beer?”

 

Grysinski shook the empty can, and nodded.

 

The fridge was nearly empty except for two twelve-packs of cheap beer, but apparently Mina’s mom wanted Bill to be happy. Pathetic.

 

He looked out the window. “Hey, it’s finally stopped snowing.”

 

From his spot at the table, Grysinski pushed the curtains aside. “I’d say you’re right. We’d better go dig out the cars before the plows come along.”

 

“They won’t be here for awhile. We’ve just started this hand.” He put the beer in front of Grysinski. He’d switched to water, himself, but if the slob wanted to get sauced up, so much the better. “Loser shovels the driveway.”

 

Eventually he threw the cards down in mock disgust. “Fine, fine, I’ll start the driveway while you dig out your truck.”

 

“Knock yourself out. Sorry Corinne doesn’t have a snow-blower. She’s always whining how broke she is.”

 

“I don’t mind shoveling. It keeps me from turning into a lump of lard.”

 

The slob glared at his trim waist. “Watch your mouth,” he said, his voice too loud. He slowly got to his feet, stumbling toward his coat as Parker opened the door.

 

The temperature was already starting to drop, and the wind had picked up.

 

Mina heard the door shut, and she looked out of her window. She could see Anthony starting to clear the driveway, while Bill was digging around the truck. She decided to go brush her teeth.

 

When she came back, she could still see Anthony digging, but Bill was nowhere in sight. Maybe he’d come in? She locked her bedroom door. She didn’t know why she did that, but she always went to her room and locked the door if she had to be alone in the house with Bill.

 

She put on her pajamas and curled up under the covers, listening to the scrape, scrape, scrape of Anthony’s shovel. Mom made a different shovel sound, short little digs. Anthony sounded strong, stronger even than Dad. Her mother would be surprised when she got home. Bill would say he did it, of course....

 

 

Mina heard her mother calling her, and she opened her eyes to see the watery sunlight streaming through the curtains. Her mother called to her again. “Mina? Mina, open the door.” She sprang out of bed and unlocked the door.

 

“Mom!” She wrapped her arms around her mother. “You’re home.”

 

“Yes.” Corrine still wore her coat, and it felt cold. She must have just walked into the house. Her mom hugged her tightly, then pulled back, stroking her hair. “Where’s Bill?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“His truck is outside, but he’s not here.”

 

Mina wondered where Anthony was. Should she mention him? Her mother might get mad.

 

Bill was nowhere to be found. A policeman finally came out and looked at Bill’s truck. Mina thought it was silly that the policeman looked inside it. Of course Bill wouldn’t be there.

 

There was no sign of the keys. The policeman said the truck was blocking traffic, so he opened the hood and fiddled with something that he said would start the truck. But it didn't. So they would have to tow it away. The tow truck man was busy, so it was evening again before the truck finally got moved. And that’s when they found Bill.

 

Actually Mina was the one who found him. She had been watching as the tow truck man attached a big chain to the bumper of Bill’s truck. She watched in awe as the chain grew tight while the tow truck pulled and pulled, slowly bringing Bill’s truck out of the mound of ice left by the snow plow. She stared at the spot, where the snow had actually melted a little, leaving patches of street visible underneath.

 

She saw something sticking out of the ice. It looked like the hand of a big doll. The tow truck man came back again to look at the chain, and she called to him.

 

She pointed to the big pink hand. “What’s that?”

 

The tow truck man stared, and then he started to look upset. “Uh, honey, you need to go inside.” He went up the driveway with her and pounded on the door as she went in. “Ma’am,” he called to her mother, “You need to dial 911.”

 

A bunch of policemen came out and took a lot of pictures. They slowly dug Bill out of the ice. A policeman came into the house, and asked Mina to sit at the table. He was huge, not like Bill, but huge with muscles and a big belt with things all over it. One of those things was a gun. He could shoot somebody if he wanted.

 

“What happened the night Bill was here?”

 

“It snowed.”

 

The policeman seemed to stare right through her, like Anthony did when he was trying to guess what cards she was holding. She stared right back with wide eyes. Grown-ups didn’t really care what kids saw or thought. This policeman would give up and go write notes or something.

 

But he didn’t give up. “It snowed. What were you doing when Bill came?”

 

“Fixing supper.”

 

“Did Bill eat with you?”

 

“Yep,” she said quickly. The policeman wrote something down.

 

“What did you eat?”

 

“Chicken and potato.” The policeman wrote again.

 

“What time was that?”

 

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

 

“Did he say he was going to leave?”

 

“No. I saw him shoveling around his truck, though,” she said helpfully.

 

“Do you like Bill?” asked the policeman suddenly.

 

She glanced at her mother. “Yes,” she said.

 

The policeman’s face didn’t change. “My name is Officer Garrett,” he said. “We’ll talk again.”

 

The next day school was open. She was sitting in class when the lady at the office called her name over the intercom. “Mina Barrow, come to the office, please. Mina Barrow, come to the office.”

 

She’d never been called to the office before. When she got there, the principal was standing there, waiting for her with her mom. Officer Garrett was there too. Was she under arrest?

 

They all went into the principal’s office together. The policeman didn’t even wait for her to sit down. “Mina, you didn't tell me the truth.” He sounded sad.  “I need to know. What happened that night? Was it just you and Bill there?”

 

She glanced at her mom, who said, “Tell the policeman everything, Mina.”

 

“I don’t want to get in trouble,” she whispered.

 

“I promise you won’t get in trouble,” her mother said. “Just tell Officer Garrett what happened.”

 

So she told the whole story, about Anthony and the poker game and how Bill showed up and she went to her room after she got kicked out of the card game and then she saw them both shoveling.

 

“So it was Anthony who ate the chicken.” Officer Garrett nodded, like everything made sense now. “Now, I have a question for both of you. Did Bill own a gun?”

 

Her mother nodded.

 

He pulled out a plastic bag that held a silvery-looking pistol. “Was it this one?”

 

Her mom looked uninterested. “I never saw it, to tell the truth. He just told me he had one.”

 

“We found another one at his house. But this was the gun we found in his pocket.”

 

Mina remembered the silver thing under Anthony’s coat.

 

Three weeks passed. Mina hoped that maybe the police had forgotten all about Anthony. Bill didn't come over any more, and her Mom didn't buy any more beer. At school, when the boys played cards, Mina would join them.  She wondered where Anthony was, if maybe he would come back. She was getting better at poker. She bet she could beat him this time.

 

But it was Officer Garrett who came back. He sat in the kitchen with her mom, but Mina sat next to the air vent in her bedroom and listened closely. A man in a wheelchair had been shot a few blocks over.

 

He had been dead for at least a week by the time they found him, and it had taken another two weeks for some tests to come back. The tests showed that the bullet came from the silver gun.

 

They did tests on Bill, too. They had immediately found out that Bill didn’t eat the chicken, which was how Officer Garrett knew Mina wasn’t being honest. But they’d also learned Bill was drunk when he died.

 

Officer Garrett was talking. “The guy in the wheelchair who got killed was a con artist who hurt himself up in Maine, running a scam. He had people all over New York mad at him, so we got a whole bunch of folks to talk to. But first I want to get hold of this Anthony Parker guy.”

 

“You think he did it?”

 

“Likely. But I can’t get to him yet, so, with your permission, I want to do the next best thing and talk to Mina again.”

 

She shrank into herself as she heard them coming up the stairs. He saw her sitting next to the vent and seemed to smile, but the smile was gone as soon as she saw it. “You know what we’ve been talking about, don’t you, Mina?”

 

She said nothing, so he continued. “Tell me more about Anthony Parker. What did he look like?”

 

He sat down on her bed. It was like he was saying he wasn’t going anywhere until he got the full story. She considered making something up.

 

“Don’t make anything up, Mina. Tell me what he looked like.” He looked kind of funny sitting next to her stuffed unicorn. She tried not to smile.

 

“He was tall.”

 

“How tall? Stand up and hold up your hands as tall as he was. Stand on the bed if you need to.”

 

She thought, then held up her hand a little shorter than Anthony really was.

 

“What color were his eyes? Imagine him looking at you, and then tell me.”

 

“Brown,” she said.

 

Officer Garrett looked sad again. “Mina, did you like Anthony? Was he nice to you?”

 

She stared at the floor for a while, but she finally nodded.

 

“Did you like Bill?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He asked again, like he didn’t believe her. “Did you like Bill?”

 

He was staring at her with shining eyes that seemed to know everything. Finally she admitted it. “No. I hate Bill.”

 

“Mina!” her mother cried. “How can you say that? You know Bill was always nice to you.” She turned to Garrett helplessly. “Bill had a few rough edges, but he was a good person. He was so kind to me.”

 

Mina couldn’t stand it any more. “He ate all our food and he stunk and…”

 

Officer Garrett held up his hand. “All right, all right. You didn't like Bill, and I'm sure you had good reasons. But, Mina, tell me anyway what Anthony looked like. Maybe he was nice and Bill was mean, but Bill's dead and Anthony's missing, so you have to tell the truth.”

 

Finally Mina told him what Anthony looked like. “But he shoveled our driveway,” she added. “And he taught me how to play poker.”

 

“We’ll take those things into account.” The policeman smiled a little, and he turned to go.

 

She had to ask. “How did you know his eyes weren’t brown?”

 

“Every time you lie, Mina, it shows. You’ve got so many tells I don’t have time to go down the list.”

 

“You play poker too?”

 

He suddenly grinned, and his whole face looked nicer. Then he was gone.

 

A few days later Officer Garrett came back.

 

Again Mina huddled next to the vent while he talked to her mother.

 

"I need to talk to Mina."

 

"Did you find that man?"

 

"I think we did, but ..."

 

"Do you need Mina to testify?"

 

"No, no. This guy is dead, shot three weeks ago. I compared Mina's description to his morgue photo."

 

What's a morgue photo? Mina thought. Then she heard her mother speak. "If it's him, then good."

 

Anthony? Maybe they found somebody else. She knew the police said he'd murdered Bill, but--maybe he hadn't. Maybe it had been an accident. Maybe Bill got hit by the snowplow and got buried under the snow that way.

 

She listened as Officer Garrett spoke again. "I don't know for sure yet. The name on this man's driver's license was Kyle Milson. He's got quite a record. Well, had a record, anyway. I spoke to his wife this morning. She said he lost his job  a few years ago, got in with some guys who were looking to make a quick buck or two. She said that's about the time she said he started turning nasty. After awhile she learned never to ask where the money was coming from."

 

"You think he was a hit man?" asked her mother.

 

"It looks like he'd do anything that would bring in some cash. We learned some more about the other guy, the guy in the wheelchair. He ripped off one old lady whose son, well, her son put out a hit on him. And Milson was an associate of his. If Mina can just give me a positive I.D., then we'll know. I have a photo of him with me."

 

"Well, I'll take you on up to her room." Mina heard chair legs scrape on the kitchen floor.

 

She clutched her knees as she heard them clumping up the stairs. She hoped it wasn't Anthony. Don't let it be Anthony. Please, not Anthony.

 

Her mother stepped through the open doorway, with Officer Garrett close behind her. He glanced at the vent. "All right, Mina. You already heard everything." He sat down next to her on the floor. "So, here's that photograph I want you to look at."

 

She heard herself say, "No." But Officer Garrett had already put the photo in front of her.

 

She saw Anthony again, sitting next to a pretty lady. Between them stood a boy older than Mina, with Anthony's blue eyes.

 

"Is this Anthony?" The policeman's voice sounded strange.

 

She closed her eyes against the picture, and nodded as she sank her head down to her knees.

 

“Mina, I’m sorry.”

 

"Why?" Her mother sounded angry. "Why should anybody be sorry about him? What about Bill? My Bill..."

 

Mina lifted her head, ready to scream to her and Officer Garrett that she hated Bill. She hated Officer Garrett. She hated that look on her mom's face, getting all stupid about Bill.

 

But then her mother started crying. It made her madder. Stupid Bill. But then her eyes started to feel like something was pricking them. She tried to make them stop, but she felt her nose already scrunching up, and the tears spilled over and down her face. She wiped them away, but more came down, over her fingers, down to her chin.

 

Officer Garrett reached up,  behind him, onto the bed, and pulled down the unicorn. He put it in Mara's arms and she buried her face in it, hiding in the warm darkness.

 

Reviews

[Manyfacets]

Your are a lovely story teller Helena. This was entertaining, edgy, with a slight bit of suspense. Your characters come to life. Mina's dialog was priceless; an eight year old with too much responsibility. I love the ending. ...The policeman recognizing that she was still just a baby really. Keep em' coming girl. I love the reads. Thank you. . . Smile M.