She ate a granola bar.
FBI Agent Curtis Ryan found out it was easier to go from Wyoming to another place than it was to go from someplace to Wyoming. He had caught a commuter flight from Casper to Denver and then to San Francisco.
He walked into the FBI Field Office at five o’clock. He was met by a FBI Agent.
“Is the Father already here?”
“Been here an hour. The whole law firm is here. Whitney, Whitney and Whitney. Father, Grandfather and Uncle.”
“Hope they leave enough space on the door for the daughter,” said Ryan.
“They are in the first interview room on the right,” said the agent.
Ryan entered the room. A man Ryan figured was the Father stood up.
“I demand to know what this ludicrousness is all about.”
Ryan said, “Sit down and shut up.”
“How dare you talk to me that way.” Rya
