WASHINGTON, D.C.
“My goodness.” Winston gazed upon the Sims Ranch for Mental Health Treatment two evenings later. “Look at this.”
Connie gaped at the scene as she shut the passenger door of Winston’s car. “It is beautiful.”
They strutted through the rugged trail, passing young men who trained horses with experienced guides.
“Smell that.” Winston sniffed hay and horse manure. “Pure nature.”
Connie fanned, grimacing. “That’s not all it is.”
“Hello there.” A tall, stout man with Santa Claus cheeks and a furry gray beard, staggered toward the officers on run over cowboy boots. “You must be Detectives Wilks and Lewis.” He gestured to both of them. “Which one’s which?”
“I’m Detective Wilks.” Connie took his hand, smiling. “And this is Detective Lewis.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sweat trickled
