Slaton watched her rise and discreetly admired a slender, thirty-something female shape with a mildly pretty face and short blonde hair.
She froze when he said, “I have more proof than this.”
Stiffly, she resumed her seat. “Eyewitness proof which, unfortunately, I did not capture on my camera,” he went on.
“So how can I see this proof?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what kind of shape you’re in.”
2
Although the intensive month-long training nearly broke her spirit, she could think of no other reason to reject Slaton’s challenge. Ricky died at 7:21 a.m. on the eighth day of his life. Craig left several weeks later, eliciting no protest from her. Both had known for a long time that the thought of Ricky was the only reason they stayed together. So, with the loss of her son, the depar
